Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Poem for Wednesday and Garrett Park Azaleas

Lightning
By Mary Oliver
 
The oaks shone
gaunt gold
on the lip
of the storm before
the wind rose,
the shapeless mouth
opened and began
its five-hour howl;
the lights
went out fast, branches
sidled over
the pitch of the roof, bounced
into the year
that grew black
within minutes, except
for the lightening - the landscape
bulging forth like a quick
lesson in creating, then
thudding away. Inside,
as always,
it was hard to tell
fear from excitement:
how sensual
the lightning’s
poured stroke! and still,
what a fire and a risk!
As always the body
wants to hide,
wants to flow toward it - strives
to balance while
fear shouts,
excitement shouts, back
and forth - each
bolt a burning river
tearing like escape through the dark
field of the other.

-------- 

I had trouble keeping my eyes open most of the day on Tuesday, and I'm not sure whether this is a delayed vaccine reaction or delayed cat stress; I think I slept okay overnight and I didn't have too much sugar or caffeine on Monday or anything. So I feel like I got nothing done, apart from enjoying the weather and dyeing my roots, which were not artfully gray but icky beige. 

My Voyager-watching group watched "Alliances" which is just as bad as I'd remembered from previous viewings -- tempers flare, bad decisions are made, Janeway makes a very sanctimonious speech. Supergirl was more fun with its high school flashback and alien invaders despite a lack of Lena. Here are some azalea photos from our visit to Garrett Park last weekend: 

2021-04-24 16.03.02

2021-04-24 16.00.10

2021-04-19 17.46.34

2021-04-24 15.57.57

2021-04-24 16.01.00

2021-04-22 17.44.44

2021-04-24 16.01.05A

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