Sunday, September 09, 2012

Poem for Sunday and Wings of Fancy

The Bedroom
By Paula Bohince

Sheets boiled with lavender, the hard bed.
Handmade eye pillow filled with Great Northerns.
Cactus to the ceiling, orange corsages.
No embarrassment, a calm
that is the opposite of ambition, I think.
Mind like a diary unlocked on the dresser, pages lifting in breeze.
Like those vivid flowers.
Amethyst on a chain: external heart.
Heirlooms in a shallow basket I can look at
without regret, or regard and weep, kneeling, beside.
A water glass, my eyeglasses, arms open
in a waiting embrace. Sleeping on my husband's chest,
his undershirt dryer-warm, arresting as a cloud
in a black-and-white photograph.


Saturday started out hot and sticky. I spent the morning working on various photo and computer projects while Adam was taking a mock SAT, and after lunch we went to Brookside Gardens for the Wings of Fancy butterfly exhibit, though by then we already had storm watches coming in from both DC and Baltimore news stations. We walked around the warm, humid gardens, where we saw lots of animals -- turtles, frogs, geese, ducks, a snake, a green heron -- and clouds that looked quite a distance away. We also saw many gorgeous butterflies in the conservatory:

On the way home we stopped at a couple of stores on Rockville Pike. In a matter of minutes the sky turned dark, and torrential rain and winds arrived. Now the temperature has dropped 20 degrees and it actually smells like fall out, which is lovely. Also, the Terps won their opening football game, the Nationals won and the Orioles are once again tied for first, so it was a good sports day (I keep forgetting to post here about things I post on Facebook, but I am also proud to be a Ravens fan and will be supporting the Vikings in the NFC)!

Doctor Who...small spoilers. Dinosaurs improve most things, even silly unrealistic dinosaurs (I know there are Pertwee episodes with dinosaurs and Sarah Jane Smith which I really must track down), but the guest stars made the episode for me. Does this mean Rory is a Weasley? I'm very happy to see Rupert Graves and David Bradley anywhere, but now I will always suspect that Lestrade secretly wants to be a big game hunter.

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