Total eclipse of the brain.
Last night's power outage began and ended about on schedule, and I stayed fairly warm in the den with the gas heater on. Unfortunately, I feel asleep while reading and slept in an odd position for an hour or so, and now my neck is sore. It just got adjusted last Tuesday, too.
Then I went shopping today and the stores were once again entirely sold out of my favorite beer. This has not been a good weekend, and now we're heading into what will be the coldest week of the season so far. Once again I regret my inability to hibernate.
Now for my belated dinner, with my less-than-favorite beer. Hurry by, December!
Sunday Verse
A Blade of Grass
by Brian Patten
You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.
I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.
You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.
You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,
And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.
