Poem for Wednesday and Chihuly in Tacoma

Words from Cold Mountain XVII
By Han-Shan
Translated by A.S. Kline

Sitting alone by folded rocks,
Mist swirling even at noon,
Here, inside my room, it’s dark.
Mind is bright, clear of sound.
Through the shining gate in dream.
Back by the stone bridge, mind returns.
Where now the things that troubled me?
Wind-blown gourd rattling in the tree.

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I had a social Wednesday despite only seeing Paul in person, though I nearly missed talking to my high school friends because I woke up thinking it was Tuesday and logged on 15 minutes late! Fortunately all my friends were running late as well -- one was driving home from an appointment, one had a child visiting, one had a child dealing with work and classes -- so we all got to talk. Then later in the afternoon I finally watched the second half of Doctor Strange with Kristen, weeks after we started it but she decided she remembered it well enough to continue. 

We took a walk in the early evening to Idylwood Park, which had few visitors on this cool day, not even many ducks. Then we came back for dinner, most of the Mariners game (it was 0-0 when we turned it off, Kirby had a great game but it took a walkoff in the 10th for them to win), and a couple of episodes of Foundation, which has its flaws but I appreciate the fact that three black women are by far the best developed and most interesting characters unless you're into the three-in-one imperial leader. Public Chihuly installations in Tacoma, on the bridge and at the station and university: