Friday, March 24, 2023

Poem for Friday and Glenstone Deer

By George Oppen

   Veritas sequitur...

In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—
That they are there!

                              Their eyes
Effortless, the soft lips
Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
Tear at the grass

                              The roots of it
Dangle from their mouths
Scattering earth in the strange woods.
They who are there.

                              Their paths
Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
Hang in the distances
Of sun

                              The small nouns
Crying faith
In this in which the wild deer   
Startle, and stare out.


On Thursday I was less boring than on Wednesday because we went out to open new bank accounts, stopped in the Corner Bakery for cold drinks since it was a gorgeous nearly-75-degree day, and took a walk in the winter aconite-covered park. Otherwise, there was more jewelry packing and charm repair. 

Kristen and I watched the end of Age of Ultron after dinner -- Ethiopian from Sheba, yay -- after which I talked to the 2/5 of my Thursday night chat group who could come this week. Then Paul and I watched Florida Atlantic upset Tennessee in the NCAA tournament. Deer in the woods at Glenstone last weekend: 








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