April is Poetry Month, and, while I haven't done
anything so ambitious as post a poem a day or
even a poem a week, here is my offering in the
wee hours of a beautiful spring morning.

Spring Morning
A A Milne

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow -
Up on the hill where the pine trees blow -
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
"Doesn't the sky look green today?"

"Where am I going?" the high rooks call:
"It's awful fun to be born at all."
"Where am I going?" the ring-doves coo:
"We do have beautiful things to do."

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
"That's where I wanted to go today!"

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow -
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.


The A.A. Milne books I own have been mine since
I was a child. The one I got the above poem
from, When We Were Very Young,is a 1961 edition.

Milne and Pooh Bear have always been held close
in the corner of my heart that I reserve for dear
friends. I never can read the last chapter of The
House at Pooh Corner without crying. I always
hand it off to one of the kids to finish.

And now I'll end this with one funny story about
the effect the Pooh stories have had on our family.
When Tyler was little, 6 or so, he and I were talking
about the trip he would get to take with his Dad when
he was 10. We had just finished reading the Winnie
the Pooh books and Tyler said, "Well, when we go on
our trip, it's gonna take us a long time to get to the
North Pole!"