By A.R. Ammons
The song
sparrow puts all his
saying
into one
repeated song:
what
variations, subtleties
he manages,
to encompass denser
meanings, I’m
too coarse
to catch: it’s
one song, an over-reach
from which
all possibilities,
like filaments,
depend:
killing,
nesting, dying,
sun or cloud,
figure up
and become
song—simple, hard:
removed.
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It was an overcast but lovely Friday in the DC area, where we are thankfully hurricane-free and forecast to remain so through the weekend. I hope everyone to the south is staying safe! The pictures from Haiti and Cuba are so upsetting. I took Maddy to school, talked to her father on the phone for a while, then spent the rest of the morning finishing a review of Voyager's "Scientific Method", another episode that hasn't improved with age. There were toads and deer as well as bunnies, squirrels, and chipmunks out enjoying the neighborhood.
After we picked up Maddy, we had an early dinner with my parents while watching the Nationals game, which was quite enjoyable until it became apparent that they weren't going to beat the Dodgers. We also caught up on Masters of Sex during the day and saw the first episode of Conviction, whose actors tried very hard, but parts of the script were just terribly written though I appreciate that its women interact far more substantively than those on other new shows we've watched this season. From Chihuly Garden and Glass in Seattle:
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