Untitled poem by Linnea Engblom of Chapel Hill, NC (Linnea's Bio) its spring i dont need upper case its spring punctuation is optional but i love exclamations! okay here we go no wonder people fall in love this time of year wake up tomorrow and breathe deeply again fall asleep in the rain feel the wind around your sockless ankles and ears whistle dont dilute excitement let it overwhelm you find a playground and swing on the tire swing get muddy really really muddy and make sure you wear white to make it really really fun eat m&ms every single day even the peanut butter ones dont control your dreams run along with them take a journey go left instead of right then right instead of forward end up where you've never been catch yourself loving ![]() About the author:
My full name is Linnea Kristina Engblom (yes I'm 100% swedish american). I grew up in Stillwater, MN actually, although I transplanted to the south (talk about culture shock) about two years ago. I now live, work and go to school (for nursing) in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I do not ordinarily consider myself a writer, much less a poet; my poem was quite literally inspired by spring herself... I couldn't help myself. It was quite a few years ago, in Minnesota, after a long cold dark winter, and when the first warm days started arriving I felt like I was almost bursting with excitement.
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Old Sweet Songs: A Prairie Home Companion 1974-1976
Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).


My full name is Linnea Kristina Engblom (yes I'm 100% swedish american). I grew up in Stillwater, MN actually, although I transplanted to the south (talk about culture shock) about two years ago. I now live, work and go to school (for nursing) in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I do not ordinarily consider myself a writer, much less a poet; my poem was quite literally inspired by spring herself... I couldn't help myself. It was quite a few years ago, in Minnesota, after a long cold dark winter, and when the first warm days started arriving I felt like I was almost bursting with excitement.






