Strangely familiar, not-forgotten words and phrases written with such grace and beauty, in the same poetic fashion I had been accustomed to. Words full of charm that always swept me off my feet and took my breath away. It made me realize the worth of an old friend, especially this one. It was the backdrop of days spent wrapped in the lulls of winter, and it reminded me of how much I yearn for tomorrow, and a new season filled with promise, and with hope, and with...anticipations.
I love preliminary things
(wrote JSJ in The Sunday Times on March 25, 1922)
The tuning of flutes and strings
The little scales musicians play
In varying keys to feel their way
The hum - the hush in which it dies
But most to see the curtain rise
I LOVE preliminary things
The little box the postman brings
To cut the twine, to break the seals
And wonder what the lid reveals
To lift the folds in which it lies
And watch the gift materialize
The snowdrop and the daffodil
The catkins hanging straight and still
The blossom on the orchard trees -
Do you know any joy greater than these?
Each represents the hope that springs
In ALL preliminary things
Thanks for today old friend.