The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Friday and Carolina Beaches

By Sophie Cabot Black

that you are unloved
but that you love
and must decide which

to remember; tracks left
in the field, a language
of going away or coming back—

and to look up
from the single mind,
to let untangle

the far-off snow
from sky
until no longer

held as proof
is also where birds
find agreement

strung along branches
each with their own song
for the other,

every note used
to sing anyway—
how to hold the already

as the not yet


Thursday was a pretty uneventful day, apart from getting done some things that had to be finished and rearranging my jewelry box for my interchangeable stone earrings. My mother took my kids out for a late lunch. I went for a walk in the yet-again-magnificent weather and saw a mother and two baby bunnies munching right around the corner from our house (today's Washington Post had an article about this summer's bunny explosion and how the best thing you can do is say awww and fence in your tomatoes).

Adam has been catching up on his summer homework, mostly Chinese and math -- he already had to read Crime and Punishment, which is punishment indeed at the beach -- and Daniel is getting ready for the T.A. position he has for the fall. They weren't terribly hungry after their late lunch so Paul and I had sandwiches and watched the Ravens scrape out a win over Atlanta (famous players looked half-asleep, young guys eager to make the team looked impressive). Some OBX seaside pics:


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