Spring, timelessness, romance

Daffodils, tulips, bluebells; dozy bees and cheery thrushes; the drone of a lawnmower, the scent of the new grass; the bluest sky, the sun on your face . . . spring has arrived!

For me, spring is the most energising season. There’s renewed vigour, more power in a daydream, the sense that warm months, laden with potential, stretch ahead. The clouds are innocent and fluffy, not ominous and weighty (in fact, I heard on the news that last week for an entire day there was not a single cloud in the sky over the UK; a true marvel!).

What better time for romance?

This recent balmy warmth has called to mind an ee cummings poem:

there are so many tictoc

clocks everywhere telling people

what toctic time it is for

tictic instance five toc minutes toc

past six tic



Spring is not regulated and does

not get out of order nor do

its hands a little jerking move

over numbers slowly



we do not

wind it up it has no weights

springs wheels inside of

its slender self no indeed dear

nothing of the kind.



(So,when kiss Spring comes

we’ll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss

lips because tic clocks toc don’t make

a toctic difference

to kisskiss you and to 

kiss me)

For me, cummings encapsulates what’s so magical about this first glimpse of spring – there is a timelessness, a slowing of the fast pace of life, a quietening of the ticking clock. Spring is joyous, powerful, colourful, cheering. And the result is renewed passion: a lingering kiss in a flowery garden; a meeting of the lips where the world slips away and all that remains is love and passion and nature. On a warm spring day, as cummings says, ‘Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.’