T.S. Tuesday: Thankful Thievery

"Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." T.S. Eliot

Today, at the bequest of T.S. Eliot, I am stealing one of my favorite poems (of a different author) to share with you.

by e.e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any--lifted from the no

of all nothing--human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake

and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)