The world's birthday

Today's poem from The Writer's Alamanac is by David Budbill. I first read David Budbill's poetry six years ago when I was at a New Hampshire camp. (Several of you who know me will have heard me waxing rhapsodic about my time at the New England Literature Program, where I slept in a sleeping bag for 7 weeks, didn't bathe very much, climbed up and down Mount Washington, and did some daring feats in a lake.)

The First Green of Spring

Out walking in the swamp picking cowslip, marsh marigold,
this sweet first green of spring. Now saut?ed in a pan melting
to a deeper green than ever they were alive, this green, this life,

harbinger of things to come. Now we sit at the table munching
on this message from the dawn which says we and the world
are alive again today, and this is the world's birthday. And

even though we know we are growing old, we are dying, we
will never be young again, we also know we're still right here
now, today, and, my oh my! don't these greens taste good.

~ by David Budbill

Posted by Monoceros at April 9, 2005 4:32 PM