Archives for posts with tag: poem

This is one of my very favorite poems. It’s from When We Were Very Young by A. A. Milne (yes, the guy who wrote about Winnie-the-Pooh). 

I started my morning journaling about what could be next in my trip and I realized that I’m living this poem out more than I ever had before. 

My most obvious choices appear to be to go into Washington, go back to the woods, or just go wherever my feet take me. I still haven’t decided. 

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Spring Morning

by A. A. Milne

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
Down to the streams where the king-cups grow –
Up to the hill where the pine-trees blow –
Anywhere, anywhere, I don’t know

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You’d sail on the water as blue as air,
And you’d see me here in the fields and say:
“Doesn’t the sky look green today?

Where am I going, The high rooks call:
“It’s awful fun to be born at all,”
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
“We do have beautiful things to do.”

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You’d say to the wind when it took you away:
“That’s where I wanted to go today!”

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow –
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.
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Months ago I wrote a haiku about this and today I decided to capture it on video. This is me and the same child who, last year, wore galoshes all Summer long.

 

Will you spin me ’round?
Rainboots reflect sunbeams as
You say, “One more time!”