By Cleopatra Mathis
Dread wakes me and so, yes,
I welcome the white, ruled as I am
by the body. In monochrome, in stasis,
the part that wants to be dead
is one with the bloodless snow. These months
have piled up, the drifts rise higher
than the windows, the layers
make a readable strata. Six inches of powder
over the rotten sleety stuff from February's
brief thaw, and under that, a packed twelve inches.
I too take on an aspect of knowing.
But outside the body's chart, tell me,
is the self knowable, with limited but mutable
variations, finally an understanding
at the bottom of it all?
Among the withheld trees, the snow
has taken on the aspect of a tunnel
and as I walk, the past closes. Behind me,
the house I loved, its animals and children.
But this cold wants nothing of regret.
When I wake, it's no waking
to the redeemable blue of sky, the new markings
on bark and limb-- only the pale light,
a calm caught in translucence,
a world under glass.
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Having Daniel home means, to start with, lots of sorting and multiple laundries -- first his clothes, then his sheets and comforter, then his towels -- and trying to figure out where in the house to keep his refrigerator, his computer boxes, etc. for the summer. Not that I am complaining, since it is fun to have a full house again! Today we went to Bagel City to get bagels for breakfast and to have lunch, though I could not persuade him to let me take him to the mall and buy him new shorts.
I saw two deer but no bunnies in the woods today; I got a late start because I was trying to clean up various bits of the house, which is completely hopeless with all the extra clutter. We watched the second-to-last episode of Awake, which makes me very sad that the show is ending, plus some excellent sixth season DS9...I am also sad about Donna Summer and Chuck Brown, my musical youth disappearing. Here are a few more photos from the College Park Aviation Museum on Mother's Day, including Hap Arnold, Orville Wright, and pioneering women:
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