By Fiona Benson
The female born again with little changed
except she has no mouth and may not eat,
except she has this urge to climb, and a light
she must raise and twist; the male born again
with little changed except he has no mouth,
except he has this urge to search, and wings –
oh she must twist and turn her tail’s green fire
like bait, its little stab of brightness in the night,
and he must search with wings through troubled air
to find her pinhole lure, its single, green,
seducing star .... All night she signals him in:
come find me – it is time – and almost dawn;
all night he looks for her in petrol stations
villages and homesteads, the city’s neon signs:
where are you – it is time – and almost dawn....
Once were humans wandered in the lanes,
led astray by fairies, foxfire, who found
their stranger selves and brought them home.
Now the dark is drowned, but some things
you can only find beyond the light,
and it is time and almost dawn and love,
my love, there is no finding then.
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I did some computer work Thursday morning, and in the afternoon I had to work on the Big Upcoming Project, though that did get me out of the apartment (and I also stopped at Kohl's to pick up some huge post-holiday bargains, and took a walk to see the waterfowl in the lake). We ate leftover noodles for dinner, then I had Thursday night chat.
After chat I watched this week's The Pitt with Cheryl, then the new episode of Starfleet Academy with Paul (better than the first episode but I'm a long way from sold on the show). Now we're watching some more Lower Decks which at least makes me laugh. Flowers and pollinators from the Woodland Park Zoo's Wild Lanterns:
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