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Apparently no one told the weather that after Passover and Easter it was meant to be all clear skies, baby chicks, and tulips until Memorial Day. It’s swaddling fog today – I just repurposed that verb – and it was forty-two at half eight. The seed packet I read the other day made dire mutterings about not planting before all danger of frost is past – well, I’m pretty sure we’ve passed that worry, but there is certainly no soil warmed to 65° as my lemongrass would prefer. I mentioned just the other day that it’s usually colder indoors than out…? So, how is it that every year I’m beguiled into turning off the heater at the beginning of April??

too soon wool socks shunned –
breezes brush against bare legs,
gilded with goosebumps

Did you know that you can now can the saga of Star Wars like you would Beowulf, or any other narrative poetry? The whole plot has been done over as epic poetry – which, given the “long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away” conceit works perfectly. I’ve enjoyed revisiting the Icelandic sagas since visiting Iceland, and while I don’t normally love long poetry, I’m kind of intrigued by this project.

The Shelf Stuff on Instagram is honoring Beverly Cleary ahead of her 105th birthday next month. Share why you loved her work, and where it resonated with you.

Don’t forget to check the National Poetry Month children’s lit blogger roundup! And, for goodness sakes, stay warm…