Holds Upon Happiness

I really enjoy the poetry of e.e. cummings. It sounds like such nonsense but the more you read it the less like nonsense it is. His use of language is so interesting. may my heart always be open to littlebirds who are the secrets of livingwhatever they sing is better than to knowand if men should not hear them men are oldmay my mind stroll about hungryand fearless and thirsty and suppleand even if it's sunday may i be wrongfor whenever men are right they are not youngand may myself do nothing usefullyand love yourself so more than trulythere's never been quite such a fool who could failpulling all the…

There is something magical about fireflies. They are little bugs that light up the world. Every time I see them it reminds me of my childhood and my children’s childhoods. My daughter still, as a full-grown adult, insists on going outside and catching fireflies every summer. Today’s poem is by Linda Pastan. She was the poet laureate of Maryland from 1991 to 1995. Tonight the fireflieslight their briefcandlesin all the treesof summer——color of moonflakescolor of flourescentlacewhere the ocean drags its torn hemover the darksand.JulyLinda Pastan

I come back to Mary Oliver’s poetry fairly frequently. It is very approachable poetry and it reminds me of the New England area I lived in for years and still love. I would love to be walking along the shore, smelling the salty air, and feeling the sand beneath my feet. One day in summerwhen everythinghas already been more than enoughthe wild beds startexploding open along the bermof the sea; day after dayyou sit near them; day after daythe honey keeps on comingin the red cups and the beeslike amber drops rollin the petals: there is no end,believe me! to the inventions of summer,to the happiness your bodyis willing to…