I don’t know about you, but when I think about e.e. cummings–and I do think about him from time to time–his humor­ous poems spring to mind. Today, my buddy Michelle McGin­nis posted this beau­ti­ful son­net to her blog, The Glad­dest Thing. Thank you, Michelle, for remind­ing me that e.e. was a man of many gifts.

being to time­less­ness as it’s to time

being to time­less­ness as it’s to time,
love did no more begin than love will end;
where noth­ing is to breathe to stroll to swim
love is the air the ocean and the land

(do lovers suf­fer? all divini­ties
proudly descend­ing put on death­ful flesh:
are lovers glad? only their small­est joy’s
a uni­verse emerg­ing from a wish)

love is the voice under all silences,
the hope which has no oppo­site in fear;
the strength so strong mere force is fee­ble­ness:
the truth more first than sun more last than star

—do lovers love? why then to heaven with hell.
What­ever sages say and fools, all’s well

— e.e. cummings

Michelle posts poems reg­u­larly. At her web­site, you can sign up for email that deliv­ers them straight to your mail­box. I’m always mean­ing to read more poetry and am glad to have some­one send it my way. Or is that gladdest?