By Marie Ponsot
In a skiff on a sunrisen lake we are watchers.
Swimming aimlessly is luxury just as walking
loudly up a shallow stream is.
As we lean over the deep well, we whisper.
Friends at hearths are drawn to the one warm air;
strangers meet on beaches drawn to the one wet sea.
What wd it be to be water, one body of water
(what water is is another mystery) (We are
water divided.) It wd be a self without walls,
with surface tension, specific gravity a local
exchange between bedrock and cloud of falling and rising,
rising to fall, falling to rise.
(1962)
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We thought about spending Saturday either at Lake Whetstone or at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, but the weather was iffy in the morning and had some periods of pouring rain in the afternoon, so it was just as well we weren't ambitious about getting out early. We ended up going to Garrett Park, the former railroad town and first nuclear-weapons free zone in the United States that is now by its own bylaws an arboretum:
We stopped at Giant for cat food and tortilla chips, came home in the rain, had tacos for dinner for Cinco de Mayo, and watched the Kentucky Derby. Then we watched Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, which remains pretty terrible (it was at least largely a surprise to me, because I had blocked out just about everything that happens in it). Now we're watching SNL's cast of America's best guest comedians in the cold open and Donald Glover!
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