Friday, April 26, 2013

Poem for Friday and Washingtonian Goslings

A Greek Island
By Edward Hirsch

Traveling over your body I found
The failing olive and the cajoling flute,
Where I knelt down, as if in prayer,
And sucked a moist pit
From the marl
Of the earth in a sacred cove.

You gave yourself to the god who comes,
The liberator of the loud shout,
While I fell into a trance,
Blood on my lips,
And stumbled into a temple on top
Of a hill at the bottom of the sky.


From Thursday's Poem-a-Day. I've read Hirsch, author of The Living Fire: New and Selected Poems and who used to write Poet's Choice for The Washington Post, since college.

There was a thick layer of pollen on my car when I left the house this morning to meet Vertigo66 for lunch at Tara Thai, but I am loving spring anyway. After we ate, we walked around Washingtonian Lake to enjoy the mid-60s temperatures and to see the turtles, ducks and incipient azaleas. We also got to see the first goslings of the season! (Photos taken with phone, sorry!)

I can never get anything done Thursday nights because it's my must-see-TV night -- Beauty and the Beast and Elementary, both of which have women characters I adore and which pass the Bechdel test pretty much every single week, plus DS9, which always did, even the bad episodes. And the Nationals won, for a change, though neither the Ravens nor Redskins have drafted anyone yet.

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