Monday, April 18, 2016

Poem for Monday, MD and PA Lambs

The Lamb
By Linda Gregg

It was a picture I had after the war.
A bombed English church. I was too young  
to know the word English or war,
but I knew the picture.
The ruined city still seemed noble.  
The cathedral with its roof blown off
was not less godly. The church was the same  
plus rain and sky. Birds flew in and out  
of the holes God’s fist made in the walls.  
All our desire for love or children  
is treated like rags by the enemy.
I knew so much and sang anyway.  
Like a bird who will sing until
it is brought down. When they take  
away the trees, the child picks up a stick  
and says, this is a tree, this the house
and the family. As we might. Through a door  
of what had been a house, into the field  
of rubble, walks a single lamb, tilting  
its head, curious, unafraid, hungry.


We're back from York, where we went with Adam to see Paul's parents on Sunday. Clair is making great progress -- his speech is vastly improved and he's restless not being permitted to walk around on his own while his hip is still healing. We all had lunch together and went to the rehab center's computer room to Skype with Daniel, which made his grandparents very happy though he wasn't entirely awake yet and was trying to fix a ticket for work while talking since he's on call this weekend.

We drove Adam back to College Park in the late afternoon and had veggie meatballs at Ikea before depositing him at his dorm. Then we came home and technically watched Madam Secretary and Elementary, but I don't have a clue what happened in either because my laptop's camera wasn't working -- I ended up having to reinstall all sorts of drivers and software -- which we discovered when we tried to Skype and ended up having to use Adam's laptop. In happy news, we saw lambs in both College Park and York:

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