rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Here Now

Sunrise brought a pink glow to the long streaks of cloud the sky wore, but then the morning turned gray for several hours. I reveled in the chill the overcast preserved, so appropriate to early autumn. Then summer invited itself to lunch. I ate the last of the watermelon.

When I went to the store I bought apples and pears so the fruit bowl would be dressed properly for the season. Yes, I'm trying to tempt fall, coax it into being more assertive. Come on, autumn, kick summer's sorry rear end! You can do it! Bring me some more clouds, and next week maybe I'll buy a pomegranate.

This evening there are no clouds, and the cicadas are buzzing, bu tin a few hours it will be cold enough to silence them. Maybe the clouds will come back then and there will be another gray morning. Every little bit helps.




Sunday Verse



Linguist


by Norman MacCaig


If we lived in a world where bells
truly say 'ding-dong' and where 'moo'
is a rather neat thing
said by a cow,
I could believe you could believe
that these sounds I make in the air
and these shapes with which I blacken white paper
have some reference
to the thoughts in my mind
and the feelings in the thoughts.

As things are,
if I were to gaze in your eyes and say
'bow-wow' or 'quack', you must take that to be
a despairing anthology of praises,
a concentration of all the opposites
of reticence, a capsule
of my meaning of meaning
that I can no more write down
than I could spell the sound of the sigh
I would then utter, before
dingdonging and mooing my way
through all the lexicons and languages
of imprecision.





Seasonal Bonus:

Ella Fitzgerald sings "Early Autumn".
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