By e e cummings
Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go amaying.
thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
whose strangeness much
says;singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?
To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).
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Tuesday was a gorgeous clear day, but cold -- around freezing when we took a walk in the mid-afternoon, but 20s now going down into the teens overnight. Three of the swans were in the lake all morning and afternoon, along with cormorants, ducks, geese, and mergansers fighting over the fish they were catching.
My Voyager group watched the second-to-last episode, the forgettable Renaissance Man, in which the Doctor is reduced to comic relief. We had Taco Tuesday for dinner and now we're watching the House at the end of the second season in which he gets shot. First flowers at Bellevue Botanical Garden last weekend:
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