Water
By Philip Larkin
If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.
Going to church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;
My liturgy would employ
Images of sousing,
A furious devout drench,
And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.
--------
The heat broke on Friday, so we got one gorgeous day before the wildfire smoke rolls in -- temperatures in the low 70s and gorgeous sunshine. I had a pretty quiet morning doing chores, then we walked to the beach. When we got back, our neighborhood had some chaos going on, since a pipe had apparently burst under the building across from ours and there were half a dozen city water trucks with various equipment dealing with it. They were noisy, and the cats were not happy.
We watched parts of the Nationals, Mariners, and Orioles games around dinner, then we watched this week's Foundation (other than Salvor, I have trouble liking or trusting anyone for five minutes, even Gaal), then we started watching Shelter, which is somewhat uneven in tone and feels retro even though it's supposed to be set in the present, but I like the characters and there are a bunch of interesting women which is enough to keep me watching. From the glass festival in Tacoma:
No comments:
Post a Comment