Out on our hillside this afternoon when the sun was sinking low over the Pacific the light was just right for grass and agapanthus and one lone iris to celebrate spring, I remembered E.E. Cummings' poem In Just.

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles  far  and  wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far  and  wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and

the
goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee