rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


What became of me yesterday? I went to the store in the afternoon heat. The day did not turn cloudy. Home again, I went outside and waited to watch the sun be eaten. As the eclipse progressed, the light turned paler, but remained bright even when the moon was centered over the sun's disk. The foliage of the trees cast crescents on walls and ground. A few birds sang premature evening songs, but I saw none go to their nests.

At its dimmest, the light was like the light at the beginning of sunset, but seemed strange because its angle was too high, and there were shadows instead of a genreal shade on the ground. The air grew perceptibly cooler for a while, but as the moon shifted away from the sun the evening grew hotter again. Altogether, the event was not especially spectacular. It might have been more enjoyable had I gotten some glasses through which to view it. A pinhole in a sheet of cardboard projects little of interest.

After the eclipse, I had dinner and once again fell asleep on the couch, but this time I didn't wake up until long after midnight. I left the windows open all night, and didn't even notice that I had fallen asleep without a blanket. It reminded me how soon the nights will grow sultry. By then I'm sure the jasmine will have bloomed. Hot nights are not so bad when they are scented with jasmine.

So that's where Sunday went. It's too late to fix it now.

Belated Sunday Verse


Frank Bidart

You know that it is there, lair
where the bear ceases
for a time even to exist.

Crawl in. You have at last killed
enough and eaten enough to be fat
enough to cease for a time to exist.

Crawl in. It takes talent to live at night, and scorning
others you had that talent, but now you sniff
the season when you must cease to exist.

Crawl in. Whatever for good or ill
grows within you needs
you for a time to cease to exist.

It is not raining inside
tonight. You know that it is there. Crawl in.


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