Monkeys
By Matthew Rohrer
In another jungle the monkeys fret.
Vibrations are tremendous.
Terror begins.
Mist dissipates.
Monkeys alight in unison
while beneath them nothing sexy happens.
From within one mangrove a monkey flutters helplessly,
another watches.
Noise like refined alabaster drifts across our monkeys.
Human intellect dwarfs only that first tear.
Everything else excels.
Intellect is nothing to savor.
Monkeys know.
Monkeys see.
Monkeys do.
As monkeys follow nauseated foresters
across wet walkways they announce their intentions.
Mankind savors variety.
Monkeys savor mankind.
Poachers came and grabbed the monkeys.
In disturbing circumstances they thrive.
Our satellites saw lilacs.
Nighttime.
No one wanders forever.
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Thursday was an unexciting chore day for me -- laundry stuff, shopping stuff, catching up on email, organizing stuff in the basement. The weather was gorgeous, no rain and not too warm, and we not only saw two baby bunnies but the bluebirds are back in the bird house out front, hopefully making a new nest for more babies! I had heard they sometimes have two broods in one season but they often move nesting spots, so I am very happy they have decided our front yard is a good place!
It was Paul's parents' anniversary, so after dinner we had a Skype call with them and David, Jon, and Brooke (we got Daniel to come; Adam was working). Then we watched some baseball before my usual Thursday night chat with my fellow fangirls -- I can't watch the insurrection hearings in real time, I need them in smaller doses -- and, afterward, we caught up on Kung Fu (as always, yay for women working together). Here are some of the apes and monkeys at Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo:
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