Under a Patched Sail
By Marianne Moore
“Oh, we’ll drink once more
when the wind’s off shore,”
We’ll drink from the good old jar,
And then to port,
For the time grows short.
Come lad—to the days that are!
--------
Friday was very warm and sunny -- it felt like summer and even smelled like summer, though thankfully it wasn't horribly humid. We went out to get bagels in the morning and to return some things at the library to the sound of phaser fire, that is, lots of cicadas rubbing their wings together, and we saw many, many larva cases on the trees, leaves, and fences around here when we walked later.
We had leftover ham and cheese pie for dinner and we just watched Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl because we haven't seen it in ages and were in the mood to rewatch the series (we are going to tackle the entire Star Wars franchise but later in the summer). I'm not canceling Amber so I'm not canceling Johnny either. From Lake Whetstone a couple of weeks ago, a heron fishing in the lake:
No comments:
Post a Comment