the bed hair

Today I woke up with spectacular bed hair.

It was, in fact, so spectacular that it decided to take over the rest of the day. Henceforth, I have not showered yet, or even started my assignment. Maybe it is not my hair’s fault that it is officially afternoon and I feel like I am only just starting to wake up (having spent hours playing… lego harry potter on J’s x-box thismorning) – daylight savings just kicked in over the weekend, and it always takes me a while to adjust. Yet, the open windows bestow light and the fragrance of spring to inspire me to make the best of the hours to come.

And so, let me leave you now with one of my favourite poems by e.e. cummings (while I go and take a shower and begin all the things that must invariably be done)

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.


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