Friday, June 13, 2014

Old Photo Friday: Happy Father's Day!

My Father moved through dooms of love
- E.E.Cummings, 1894-1962

My father moved through dooms of love
through same of arm through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

His motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that is so timid air is firm
under his eyes would stir and squirm
Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire to begin
Joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and purse so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
 And nothing quite so least as truth 
I say, though hate were why men breath
because my Father lived his soul 
love is the whole and more than all.