Log
By James Merrill
Then when the flame forked like a sudden path
I gasped and stumbled, and was less.
Density pulsing upward, gauze of ash,
Dear light along the way to nothingness,
What could be made of you but light, and this?
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I know, I'm repetitive on weekdays. Wednesday involved more spectacular weather, a lovely long talk with all three of my good high school friends, and a walk to the beach with some wading and two Mega Tyranitar raids. We were going to have baked potatoes for dinner, but it was too warm to bake potatoes for an hour, so we had mashed potatoes with faux chicken instead.
We watched Miss Americana on Netflix because I hadn't ever seen the whole thing, though I'd seen clips and I'd thought that was all I really needed to see but apparently I'm still in a Taylor mood. Now we're rewatching Good Omens season 2 to see if it grabs me more the second time through. There's a log by the dock in our neighborhood that a lot of creatures share:
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