By Florence Ripley Mastin
Night fell one year ago, like this.
He had been writing steadily.
Among these dusky walls of books,
How bright he looked, intense as flame!
Suddenly he paused,
The firelight in his hair,
And said, "The time has come to go."
I took his hand;
We watched the logs burn out;
The apple boughs fingered the window;
Down the cool, spring night
A slim, white moon leaned to the hill.
To-night the trees are budded white,
And the same pale moon slips through the dusk.
O little buds, tap-tapping on the pane,
O white moon,
I wonder if he sleeps in woods
Where there are leaves?
Or if he lies in some black trench,
His hands, his kind hands, kindling flame that kills?
Or if, or if...
He is here now, to bid me last good-night?
--------
The weather on Thursday was even more gorgeous than Wednesday and I got to enjoy it a lot, plus I finished my Voyager review for the week so I don't even feel guilty even though I got behind on email and stuff! I had lunch with my neighbor Carole at Zoe's Kitchen, where I'd never eaten before and which has a hummus trio (garlic, pesto, red pepper) that is wonderful. Then Paul and I decided to avoid traffic and go take a mid-afternoon walk along the C&O Canal:
In addition to the many turtles, we saw lots of birds, including a couple of pairs of ducks and several cardinals. Then we came home, finished work, played with cats, and ate dinner. Evening TV included Beauty and the Beast, which is a bit all over the place plot-wise but not super dark, which I appreciate, and Orphan Black, which is pretty dark but a lot of really good stuff happened this episode and the acting is always first-rate. So glad Obama has finally endorsed Clinton!
No comments:
Post a Comment