By Gregory Orr
The world seems so palpable
And dense: people and things
And the landscapes
They inhabit or move through.
Words, on the other hand,
Are so abstract -- they're
Made of empty air
Or black scratches on a page
That urge us to utter
Certain sounds.
And us:
Poised in the middle, aware
Of the objects out there
Waiting patiently to be named,
As if the right words
Could save them.
And don't
They deserve it?
So much hidden inside each one,
Such a longing
To become the beloved.
And inside us: the sounds
That could extend that blessing --
How they crowd our mouths,
How they press up against
Our lips, which are such
A narrow exit for a joy so desperate.
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Mostly I did chores and work and laundry on Thursday. Sadly, I did not get nearly all of it done -- well, the work and laundry, mostly yes, but the ongoing clean-up projects, mostly no. (I require Daniel for the renovation project for his room, for instance.) Adam went biking in the late afternoon after spending the early afternoon shopping for a suit with my mother; do not tell me I'm a bad mother for failing to participate, I was not invited.
We had quiche for dinner and Adam went to a friend's while we watched some Crossbones, though we are way behind so I can't have a conversation about it with anyone who's been following. In honor of the frog I saw (as well as several bunnies) while walking, here are some of the animals in the water at Kenilworth Aquatic Garden last weekend, including a Maryland terrapin brought by the park service to educate visitors about their environmental needs:
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