By Cornelius Eady
The trouble is, you can never take
That flower from Billie's hair.
She is always walking too fast
and try as we might,
there's no talking her into slowing.
Don't go down into that basement,
we'd like to scream. What will it take
to bargain her blues,
To retire that term when it comes
to her? But the grain and the cigarettes,
the narcs and the fancy-dressed boys,
the sediment in her throat.
That's the soil those petals spring from,
Like a fist, if a fist could sing.
Once again both kids slept late, Daniel having stayed up past 3 a.m. (and having lost an extra hour to Daylight Savings) playing and chatting online and Adam still needing to recover from strep -- he missed working at Hebrew school, he didn't feel well enough. We stayed close to home till mid-afternoon, then drove to College Park, where en route to Daniel's dormitory we discovered that the sheep on the agricultural school farm were outside with their lambs, and Adam and I spent quite a bit of time photographing them while we were all awwwing (a friend of Daniel's was there taking pictures as well). There were daffodils and periwinkles blooming on the campus and cherry blossoms starting to bloom as well.
We had offered to take Adam to Ikea to look for a new desk for his room, and Daniel decided to accompany us when he realized he could get Swedish meatballs and lingonberries for dinner plus a rug for the floor of his dorm room (which he now has all to himself, since his roommate withdrew). We didn't end up getting Adam any furniture, wanting to take more measurements at home, but we got some little household items. Then we took Daniel back to school, came home and watched Harry's Law since it's not on demand and Once Upon a Time is, and now we're watching the middle episodes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.