I lived on the moon for a while

With the dusty dune-dwelling sparrows

And odd signs and symbols, ever-shifting.

One time I saw a purple balloon
That had made it all the way to the moon

But mostly I dwelt in sand and clouds, alone.

Then it was time to come home.

Green had happened while I was gone –

And Blue –

And Pink – 

And Purple – 

And White –

And Yellow – 

And now I remember –

They call this Spring 

 

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On the moon – on the day of the purple balloon – I found a small book. And in it, I found this poem I’d like to share with you.

Spring Morning
By 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.

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