Thursday, March 22, 2012

Poem for Thursday and College Park In Bloom

Memento
By Eamon Grennan

Scattered through the ragtaggle underbrush starting
   to show green shoots
lie the dark remains of rail sleepers napping now
   beside the rusted-out wreck

of a Chevy that was once sky-blue and now is nothing
   but shattered panels and
anonymous bits of engine in the ditch by a path that
   was once a railway line

cut between small hills whose silence hasn't been
   broken by the rattle and
lonesome-blown whistle of a train for fifty years and
   whose air hasn't filled

for ages with my childhood's smell (set by Seapoint on
   the coastal line) of coal
smoke and hot steam puffed up in great cloud-breaths
   out of a black-sooted chimney.

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I had a pile of chores to do on Wednesday after hauling Daniel out of bed after noon. I had to stop at a bunch of stores, go to AC Moore only to discover that AC Moore had moved across Rockville Pike, then rush home to let in Adam who had forgotten his key, after an already exciting day during which a fire in his school auditorium caused the building to be evacuated for more than an hour.

Evening involved domestic chores like folding laundry (laundry-folding movie was Bride and Prejudice with Aishwarya Rai; Adam kept walking through saying "Colin Firth is the bad guy"). I have to review Deep Space Nine early this week since I'll be out most of Friday, so we watched "Invasive Procedures" with Lionel Luthor, then a bunch of fifth season episodes. Some signs of spring in College Park last weekend:















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