| I never understood the T.S. Eliot poem before this year. Yesterday, the 24th of April, it was near freezing all day. Today there was sun, but unwarming, distant, cool. So, Eliot was right about April. "April is the cruellest month, breeding | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Memory and desire, stirring | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Dull roots with spring rain. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Winter kept us warm, covering | 5 | |||||||||||||||||||
| Earth in forgetful snow, feeding | ||||||||||||||||||||
| A little life with dried tubers. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee | ||||||||||||||||||||
| With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, | ||||||||||||||||||||
| And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, | 10 | |||||||||||||||||||
| And drank coffee, and talked for an hour." T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland |
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