poem of the week: in-just

Er, yes, so it's been a really, really long time since I last did this, and in all fairness, I should have, say, fifteen poems in one post. Except that no-one would read them all, because most of them would be long and very geekish and oblique and most likely half of them would be Eliot and Millay and William Carlos Williams, because. (I just fell wildly in love with Eliot's 'East Coker'. Egad. I must share that one, eventually, or at least the one section that absolutely spoke to me. Also, I read it about six times at midenianscholar's when for whatever reason no-body had anything to be doing so I sat on the couch and read her grandmother's first-edition Four Quartets.)

Oh, and I read this lovely interpretation of 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' in the answer key to Sound & Sense, the poetry course I shall be studying come September. (YES. I HAVE A POETRY COURSE. *wibble*) It is so magnificently Remusy that I feel obligated to type it up (it's not too long) and share the geekish psychoanalitic love. I also feel the profound need to write a fic entitled 'The Love Song of Remus J. Lupin', but I haven't any idea what the actual plot might entail. (Never mind. My fics never have any plot. They are just rambling and run-ons and lots of jawbreaker words and semi-colons and hyphens. This does not exactly constitute a plot.) 

Anyway. Poetry. I found this one in an illustrated children's poetry book we have, and was immediately and completely enraptured. 

( 'In Just-' - e.e. cummings )

Why is it that e.e. cummings is so exquisitely good at capturing some fleeting sense of incredible joy?