Of Love
By Mary Oliver
I have been in love more times than one,
thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting
whether active or not. Sometimes
it was all but ephemeral, maybe only
an afternoon, but not less real for that.
They stay in my mind, these beautiful people,
or anyway beautiful people to me, of which
there are so many. You, and you, and you,
whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe
missed. Love, love, love, it was the
core of my life, from which, of course, comes
the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned
that some of them were men and some were women
and some — now carry my revelation with you —
were trees. Or places. Or music flying above
the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun
which was the first, and the best, the most
loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into
my eyes, every morning. So I imagine
such love of the world — its fervency, its shining, its
innocence and hunger to give of itself — I imagine
this is how it began.
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Swiped from Dayna.
Summer returned for several hours on Wednesday. I was out having lunch with Linda, my oldest friend -- that is, friend of longest duration, since we were in elementary school -- and after sharing Ethiopian food at Sheba, we went back to her house, walked her dog to the park, and went into her garden where she gave me a tour of all the vegetables and herbs they've grown, plus she sent me home with a bunch of peppers and spices!
Since it was OCT 21 2015, I had laundry to fold, and Paul worked from home in the afternoon, we put on Back to the Future, plus the beginning of the sequel (yes, I know the date is relevant to the predictions in the second one, but the first one is a much better movie). We watched Arrow, now we're watching the sad end of the Cubs' season, meaning I'll root for the Blue Jays if they advance! Items from four famous fandoms at the EMP Museum in Seattle:
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