How to Love
By January Gill O’Niel
After stepping into the world again,
there is that question of how to love,
how to bundle yourself against the frosted morning—
the crunch of icy grass underfoot, the scrape
of cold wipers along the windshield—
and convert time into distance.
What song to sing down an empty road
as you begin your morning commute?
And is there enough in you to see, really see,
the three wild turkeys crossing the street
with their featherless heads and stilt-like legs
in search of a morning meal? Nothing to do
but hunker down, wait for them to safely cross.
As they amble away, you wonder if they want
to be startled back into this world. Maybe you do, too,
waiting for all this to give way to love itself,
to look into the eyes of another and feel something—
the pleasure of a new lover in the unbroken night,
your wings folded around him, on the other side
of this ragged January, as if a long sleep has ended.
Saturday had gorgeous sunny weather, so after a morning reading the news (sad) and playing with cats (happy), we had lunch and went to two of the county parks through which Rock Creek runs -- Lake Needwood, where we saw woodpeckers, dancing squirrels, and a deer, and Meadowside Nature Center, where we saw the raptors and reptiles inside and walked along the creek as the sun was starting to go down. Four pics of each:
This evening we put the kittens in carriers so we could put them in the living room and let them and the cats get used to each other, but the kittens were unhappy with how confined they were, so tomorrow we're borrowing a big cage from a friend. They weren't impressed with this week's Doctor Who but neither was I. The Last Kingdom was actually more engaging, but Uhtred has to stop making dumb decisions!