By Carol Frost
The tortoise walks on tiptoe in June,
the month of his ardors.
Buttery light, distant thunder
in the month of my ardors.
Flailing boughs, coral lime
in the wind and verdure.
Then silence, dark creamy
shadows in nighttime verdure.
The moon traversing the garden,
florals made of a blush or a breath,
nightbirds with a little lump
of insect under their tongues, breath
of clover, grassy, spiced,
and all of it rinsed of emotion.
The leaden nymph by the gate.
All, all rinsed of emotion.
By what bough are the fireflies
hidden, and the stars?
The night’s leavings in daylight
lie hidden like the stars.
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My Friday morning was uneventful -- mostly involved research into new computers, haven't made any decisions yet -- and listening to lots of Eddie Money. After lunch I was going to go out and do a raid, but when I opened the door, there was a tiny little green bird looking stunned on the porch mat, and when it hadn't moved an hour later though I went outside inches away from it and the cats sat in the window glaring at it, I called the nature center in Cabin John Park, which referred me to Second Chance Wildlife Rescue, which was likely to close before I could get there. When I went outside with a box and went to pick it up, though, it peeped, hopped, and flew away!
The weather was completely gorgeous, cool and overcast, so I could have the doors open most of the day. I did eventually go do a Deoxys raid near CVS, after which I went to the park for a little while and got gas. We had dinner with my parents, saw the beginning of the Nationals-Braves game (which did not end well for the Nats), then watched The Hustle, which had some cute moments but I did not like as much as I was expecting; it's not a story of women working together to con men so much as women in a turf competition and the male con artists are always a step ahead of them, so there's really no good girl-power feeling at all. From Cape Henlopen, some of the wildlife and cacti:
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