Friday, October 30, 2020

Poem for Friday and Gathland

Love Poem
By Susan Wheeler

My mother wouldn’t stand up
to wave. My father made certain
the door locked behind me.

But when I went for your door
you came too. Your mouth
made a flute of my arm,

its music a glass on the past.
My love, my love, went its song.
Now there is no need to leave.

-------- 

The storm left over from Hurricane Zeta made it a very rainy, dark, and occasionally windy day. We did not go outside till nearly 6 p.m., when the rain was only a drizzle, and I have nothing exciting to report from earlier in the day which was all chores and reading. 

We watched three more episodes of The Queen's Gambit, which is excellent; so many movies about women succeeding in fields dominated by men either show them as paragons or focus on how terribly men treat them; this does neither, it's just Beth. Some Gathland photos:

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