By Kay Ryan
Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,
she can ill afford the chances she must take
in rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
a packing-case places, and almost any slope
defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,
she's often stuck up to the axle on her way
to something edible. With everything optimal,
she skirts the ditch which would convert
her shell into a serving dish. She lives
below luck-level, never imagining some lottery
will change her load of pottery to wings.
Her only levity is patience,
the sport of truly chastened things.
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I have very little to report from my Wednesday -- it was windy but a bit warmer, I took a long walk in the park once the morning rain ended, some work got done and some did not, some cats got fed and some...no wait, all cats got fed, but a couple of them forgot a few minutes later and demanded to be fed again.
Paul, Cheryl, and I watched Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, which I actually liked better than I remembered; the Ego plot did nothing for me, but Nebula and Gamora are awesome, as are Rocky and Groot. Here are some of the flowers the three of us saw at Mount Vernon over the weekend:
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