Several weeks back I got to see Ross Gay read at Austin’s Harry Ransom Center, one of those readings where the whole audience was so swept up in the poetry and the poet that we could have sat all night and listened. I raced to put more of his words in the poetry box and excerpted his “Sorrow Is Not My Name” for the start of spring. Well, a little late.
And soon it was time to swap him out. As I pored through options, I stumbled on this Billy Collins poem. Today we had one of those days Collins writes of. A friend and I had lunch on the patio of a Mexican restaurant and then stood as we said goodbye just taking in the perfection of the afternoon—blue skies and soft breeze and trees all greening out. It was what Chris’s uncle would call a “10-er.”
Here's to a season of 10-ers and neighbors who sing like angels. Happy Spring.
“And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,”
