Sunday, November 17, 2013

Poem for Sunday, Huntley Meadows, American Gangster

Then Saw the Problem
By Mark Jarman

How do you turn into a flower of the field,
the lily clothed to make Solomon rue his glory?

What leap takes off from here towards evolution,
pointing the way to the pearly everlasting?

Eons made the flower and flowers have their agendas,
whatever the population of the field—

more than a lifetime to construct that airport.


We had thought about driving to Calvert Cliffs on Saturday to get a bit more beach in before winter, but it rained most of the night and younger son told us it was pretty muddy in the woods nearby when he went out with the track team in the morning, so we decided maybe it wasn't worth the three-hour drive followed by a two-hour hike in the mud, and went to Huntley Meadows instead. It was a bit chilly and overcast, but the water was higher than in the fall, there were lots of geese and ducks swimming and chasing each other from one part of the wetlands to another, and I saw what I think was a muskrat (I don't think it was big enough to be a beaver) disappearing under a pile of cattails and downed branches.

Adam wanted to get a haircut at a proper salon rather than the Hair Cuttery, so we dropped him off to do that and did a bit of shopping, then we came home and had butternut squash, corn and pinto bean chili for dinner. Maryland had already beaten Virginia Tech in overtime (making the Terrapins bowl-eligible, yay), and Cheryl and I were in the mood to watch a Russell Crowe movie, so we put on American Gangster on our respective DVD players and chatted about how hot Russell looks in a dirty undershirt, let alone a black suit. Now Celtic Thunder is on PBS doing "Now We Are Free" from Gladiator, so clearly it was meant to be a Russell night!

No comments: