By Jack Gilbert
In the small towns along the river
nothing happens day after long day.
Summer weeks stalled forever,
and long marriages always the same.
Lives with only emergencies, births,
and fishing for excitement. Then a ship
comes out of the mist. Or comes around
the bend carefully one morning
in the rain, past the pines and shrubs.
Arrives on a hot fragrant night,
grandly, all lit up. Gone two days
later, leaving fury in its wake.
For Susan Crosby Lawrence Anderson
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My father took Daniel out for lunch and mini golf on Tuesday while I did some work and made a bunch of necessary doctor appointments -- Daniel has to see the oral surgeon, dermatologist, ophthalmologist, et al before college -- and folded laundry (watching Due South because I was really in the mood for it). Daniel showed me some of the E3 Expo. Then I took Adam to tennis and spent an hour in Cabin John Park with many chipmunks, squirrels, and songbirds -- no snake this week but many people were walking their dogs and I saw a deer fleeing at one point, plus geese near the neighborhood pond.
After dinner we watched this week's Sanctuary, which was awfully reminiscent of Deep Space Nine "Children of Time" (not one of my favorites, more for reasons of characterization than plot). Adam has spent the past two hours tearing the house apart looking for his Chinese textbook, which is supposed to be returned to the school tomorrow, and the cats have paced upstairs and downstairs following this action (he still hasn't found the book). Here are a last batch of photos from the Virginia Renaissance Faire a couple of weekends back:
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