11photographs

Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go amaying.

thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
whose strangeness much
says;singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?

To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).

e.e. cummings - tulips & chimneys - 1923

people from a planet without flowers

would think we must be mad with joy

the whole time

to have such things about us

~ iris murdoch

april is the cruelest month
breeding lilacs out of the dead land
mixing memory and desire
stirring dull roots with spring rain

- ts eliot

only love
can make it rain
the way the beach is kissed by the sea
only love
can make it rain
like the sweat of lovers
laying in the fields

l o v e
reign o’er me
l o v e
reign o’er me

only love
can bring the rain
that makes you yearn to the sky
only love
can bring the rain
that falls like tears from on high

l o v e
reign o’er me

on the dry and dusty road
the nights we spend apart alone
i need to get back home to cool cool rain
i cant sleep and i lay and i think
the night is hot and black as ink
oh god i need a drink of cool cool rain . . .

- the who

the moon smiled with such wonder

that the stars peeked in to see you

and the night wind whispered

life will never be the same.

~ from nancy tillmans

*on the night you were born*

(a special gift from auntie pj)