Born on this day in 1908 Thodore Roethke’s short life never crossed with mine. He passed away, aged only 55, 2 months and 1 day before I was born.
Here is a funny poem from him. I love the imagery, and the lovely childish innocence of a boy who can’t see what the fuss is about.
Child on top of a Greenhouse; by Theodore Roethke
The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!