By Ed Roberson
There is nothing concrete to grasp in
looking into the morning sky
The evidence of red-eye
flights east a plane drawn line presents
is not a wheelbarrow solid enough
dependency as day and night
carry in coming and going
You don't see the poem
saying anything you can't see in it
White dashes of contrails'
seemingly unmoving streak towards sunrise
disquiet the pale otherwise
unpunctuated blue of dawn
breaks it off Here is that silence
I am still playing catch-up from being away all weekend so I have nothing exciting to report. I got the laundry folded, the bedcovers and towels washed, and about half my mail answered. In the late afternoon I got to take Adam to tennis, and I love that it's February and therefore light enough now for me to walk along the creek at Locust Grove for the hour that he has his lesson. Supposedly it may snow tomorrow but it was in the 50s this afternoon and still feels like high 40s at the coldest.
Evening TV started with Glee, which I enjoyed a lot -- finally a decent amount of Santana, plus some Gypsy Kings and it would have been worth watching just to hear Ricky Martin cover Madonna's "La Isla Bonita" (though considering the complaints about lack of authentic Latino culture, er, point made?). Then we watched Ringer, which is crack but very enjoyable crack -- Juliet's crazy mother, Henry growing a spine -- and finally this week's Downton Abbey, which is an even bigger soap opera than Ringer and I still think Matthew deserves better than Mary, who keeps making her own bed badly, though if she'd actually had to make her own bed just once I bet she'd be a better person.
Here are some photos from the Norwalk Aquarium in Connecticut on Saturday before the Bat Mitzvah:
Petting a Stingray
The Nemo Tank
Ray in the Sand