not even the rain has such small hands
If I were to take on this challenge I would choose the e.e. cummings poem that has been with me in days filled with Montreal music, to cozy Toronto evenings all the way to cold and rainy Danish days of longing and uncertainty. The poem seems to follow me, gently and softly a few steps behind, calming me, reassuring me of the strength and stability that is enclosed not from some outside source, but rather found within. Thanks Joanna for these great challenges! somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this ...
