By Nathan Spoon
Here in a chair
in a cozy corner of this room,
under the glow of a lamp,
with the sun replaced by
the moon hanging
boldly in the sky, I pause
to consider the small pink buds
of a toothed cactus,
and I pause to consider
the moon as well, although
it is too far away to touch,
and in my pausing I feel
as if I am a wave on the ocean
or a seed pulsing
in a warmer season, now
that the leaves have gone
from most of the trees, now
that frost dusts the brittle grass
most mornings, now
that weather keeps us more
indoors, so that we are more
able to be together, even more
together, even during moments
in lamplight like this one.
--------
My throat is still horribly sore, but my covid test is still negative, so I just took it very easy on Tuesday -- slept late, did some reading, considered going for a walk but it was raining really hard. So I did some cleaning, then my Voyager group watched "Author, Author" (not one of my favorites, but admittedly I hate the way pretty much every character is written by this point of the seventh season).
Cheryl and I watched Skeleton Crew together before dinner (pace a little slow this week, but it's fun not knowing what Jude Law is up to and the droid, as is so often the case, steals scenes), and now we're giving Doctor Odyssey another try after reading fun internet theories, trying to figure out whether he's in a coma or purgatory or what. Cacti and desert plants at the US Botanical Garden:
No comments:
Post a Comment