The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Friday, Falcon, Swordfish

A Book Said Dream and I Do
By Barbara Ras

There were feathers and the light that passed through feathers.
There were birds that made the feathers and the sun that made the light.
The feathers of the birds made the air soft, softer
than the quiet in a cocoon waiting for wings,
stiller than the stare of a hooded falcon.
But no falcons in this green made by the passage of parents.
No, not parents, parrots flying through slow sleep
casting green rays to light the long dream.
If skin, dew would have drenched it, but dust
hung in space like the stoppage of
time itself, which, after dancing with parrots,
had said, Thank you. I'll rest now.
It's not too late to say the parrot light was thick
enough to part with a hand, and the feathers softening
the path, fallen after so much touching of cheeks,
were red, hibiscus red split by veins of flight
now at the end of flying.
Despite the halt of time, the feathers trusted red
and believed indolence would fill the long dream,
until the book shut and time began again to hurt.


What minimal amount of snow was left from Wednesday melted Thursday, which was a really gorgeous day in the DC region -- and a good thing too, since our deck had to be finished enough to be photographed by the inspection people for the bank to sign off on our mortgage refinancing, so the sliding doors were open quite a bit, much to the chagrin of the cats (though the bunnies were out when I walked, so spring must be coming and the snow must not have done too much damage, yay). The deck looks great -- still not quite finished, that will happen Monday, but it is a relief to have it mostly done, and the inspector has come and gone so now we'll try to set a time for closing.

In the early morning I took Adam to the orthodontist to get his new lower retainer, which he'll have to wear till he stops growing. His teeth were sore in the evening, so although his school was having a pizza fundraiser for the track team, we stayed home for dinner, then watched Swordfish, which is even more whacked than Australia and more offensive too -- gratuitous topless Halle Berry I can live with, but nonconsensual oral sex and stacks of dead bodies, ugh. Here is a falcon (I'm pretty sure it's a peregrine) we saw outside the Smithsonian's Natural History museum last weekend, not sure what it's eating and don't want to know:


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