By Shanna Compton
Last week Mars suddenly got a lot closer.
It used to be the place we'd throw out
as impossible, utterly unreachable, so red
and foreign and sere. Not anymore.
And I'm trying to figure out why watching
the panorama makes something in the hot core
of me crumple like a swig-emptied can,
intoxicating though it may be, vibrant
with out-of-this-world color like the whole thing's
a sand painting, a dimensional mandala
some galactic monk took her sweet time pouring
freehand, blowing on it between sips of her tea,
ruffling up the most dramatic of its rumpled crests.
It's bluer than I thought, attained. Like most things
I wish we could take back.
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Extreme quickie since Daniel is home for the weekend and we are watching Voyager episodes ("Resolutions" right now, heh). Earlier I posted a review of Deep Space Nine's "The Visitor", which is still a wonderful tear-jerker but the logic doesn't quite hold up after the progression of the series, then took a ride to get Daniel in College Park, where the sheep, cows, and horses on the farm were all out enjoying the weather.
Since it was gorgeous out I took a long walk after we stopped at CVS and Giant for weekend supplies (60 degrees on Friday, snow forecast for Saturday). We had dinner with my parents along with Adam and Maddy, who had thought she'd be busy but wound up being able to come. Then we came home and watched Wolverine since none of them had seen it -- Adam was thoroughly unimpressed with the script and directing, the rest of us enjoyed it for what it was.
A cat on a porch in Brunswick earlier this winter.
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