I loved this poem from Poetry Daily the other day.
Such havoc there was in your house
when the sparrow flew in
and the cats set to: somebody's arms
flailing, somebody's larynx ululating. You
were reaching out to interrupt a cat
as the sparrow dove into your arm
beak first, and pierced you through the denim
like, in truth, a hypodermic needle,
the tiny wound introducing
a great quietness. How
solemnly then, and oh so slowly you
sidled into the out-of-doors, the sparrow
at peace on your sleeve in a semblance of nest.
Did the air move? Only a little. Hardly enough
to ruffle a bough on the red-leaved Japanese maple
that you were about to become — or would have become
if this were a myth, or a believer's dream.
It is supposed to be 88 today and tomorrow. Summer is finally here! At least for a two day stint. The tomatoes and basil and cukes and squash are lovin' it. And I am loving wearin' shorts and tee-shirt and eating dinner al fresco.
I am covering Saturday walk-in clinic today . But it might be slow since the weather is nice. Patients are like that, miraculously cured by a sunny day — don't get me wrong, that's a good thing.
Tonight Dean and I are going to see the Men's Chorus with friends. Leslie Jordan (the short guy who appeared on several Will & Grace episodes) is the special guest. Should be fun!