By Pippa Little
I knew the names of stones at the river mouth,
crossed giving thanks to their uneasy spirits.
I heard killings in the shadows, knew to turn keen and quick,
travel in the presence of thunder, leave no scent or spoor behind.
Preferring the high places closest to the moon
where the wind ran with me, I practiced abandon,
my spine a scimitar, star-whetted, flayed old disguises
into strands and rips, underneath I was sleek, open:
my muzzle carved air into four queendoms and I knew them all
as they knew me, tooth, soul, tatterdemalion heart,
and I flew, I think, in that time, when nobody needed
or shamed me and I was always hungry, bloody-tongued
but louche and free and supple, perfumed in pine and ashes.
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The moving van is supposed to arrive with all our stuff on Wednesday *crosses fingers* so I spent most of Tuesday doing chores in anticipation of that -- breaking down the boxes for things we've bought since we arrived, moving everything in the garage and basement into corners to make room for shelves and boxes, rolling up carpet remnants and things left by previous owners and rearranging a rug in front of the basement sliding doors. I also chatted with my DS9 watch group and we watched "The Jem'Hadar" -- the season two finale.
In ridiculous news, Niantic accepted a Pokestop I submitted at the gazebo down the street, which was very important because we had no Pokestops reachable via sidewalk within walking distance, and still no gyms. At least I can still play! We watched some spring training baseball (Orioles have been audio-only, so it's been Seahawks and Red Sox) and now we're (re)watching Song Sung Blue because it's on Peacock and delightful. My local pics are all still snow, so here are the Wolf Haven residents in the rain a few weeks ago:
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