Monday, March 27, 2017

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Thursday, March 16, 2017

My friend, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:
The riches left, not got with pain,
The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule nor governance;
Without disease the healthy life;
The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no dainty fare;
True wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress;

The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night:
Content thyself with thine estate,
Neither wish death, nor fear his might. 

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

I waited though wanting nothing,
then waited longer.

As if by that I might
become again
the carved and painted lure—

Its two iridescent eyes that stay always open,
its stippled gold sides, deep-orange back,
red threads attached at the gills.

I hummed with its three-pronged shine
of fish who are sweet and fat to the birds above them.

I hummed with its three injured notes to the fish below.

To all the blue-winged, handless distances
and all my blue-finned, handless lives,
I hummed
in borrowed Swedish and the iron-hiding slip of gleam—

The great strangeness still may come, even for you.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

I loved being Ryan's mother. ❤️

Wednesday, March 8, 2017