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By Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,

so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze


that it made you want to throw

open all the windows in the house


and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,

indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,


a day when the cool brick paths

and the garden bursting with peonies


seemed so etched in sunlight

that you felt like taking


a hammer to the glass paperweight

on the living room end table,


releasing the inhabitants

from their snow-covered cottage


so they could walk out,

holding hands and squinting


into this larger dome of blue and white,

well, today is just that kind of day.


Source: Poetry

  • Nature

Poet Bio

Billy Collins
Billy Collins is that rarest of phenomena—a best-selling poet. Cherished for his wry humor, ingenious metaphors and uncanny ability to turn the most humdrum of domestic situations into occasions for memorable poetry, he came to prominence in 1998 with his volume Picnic, Lightning. Born in New York City, and a professor at Lehman College there, he served from 2001 to 2003 as the United States’ poet laureate. See More By This Poet

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