I just shoveled banana nut bread into my system for breakfast. It’s no way to behave; I shouldn’t be eating at my desk (no food in the library — I mean learning commons). And today, my morning window is telling me that Atlanta is not there yet. Considering yesterday found me at Piedmont park eating al fresco, today’s gloomy morn is a bit of a blow. Of course it’s still March and others have pointed out their out and out cold state. Indeed, my colleagues in Denver spent the weekend shoveling snow. I don’t have a right to complain.
Instead I’ll just say that seeing Amy Lowell’s poem Vernal Equinox struck me as appropriate today. Especially her unease with the thrusting of green shoots and wondering at the absence of her overpowering love. It’s good stuff.
The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book;
And the South Wind, washing through the room,
Makes the candles quiver.
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter,
And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots
Outside, in the night.
Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and urgent love?