Showing posts from April, 2019

Steeping: Spring Tea Recipe

I'm very much into spring. So much so that when I encountered Edna St. Vincent's " Spring " for the first time, I felt silly and naïve. Here are the lines: To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. Still I cannot help it but love idiotic April. And it is indeed quite lovely that from rotting brains (below or above grounds) flowers bloom. Also, to say "life is nothing" sounds like a tantrum. Life is possibility, opportunity,