The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Thursday and Snoqualmie Falls

By Hart Crane

With crimson feathers whips away the mists,—
Dives through the filter of trellises
And gilds the silver on the blotched arbor-seats.

Now gold and purple scintillate
On trees that seem dancing
In delirium;
Then the moon
In a mad orange flare
Floods the grape-hung night.


It was one of those days where I didn't get 2/3 of my planned work finished, even the little things, but since it was chilly I got a lot of bonding time with cats who wanted a warm body to snuggle (our cat-sitter Rose came to visit and can attest to this). I made the horrifying discovery that there is already eggnog in the grocery store -- yes, Paul decided he had to have some -- and we now have bagels and creamy sriracha, so that's good news. Plus I have ordered a new laptop that will hopefully freeze up far less frequently than the one upon which I'm typing this.

Adam accepted the offer of a spring semester internship with NASA, which we're very excited about for him (he had another offer from a prestigious national agency that he turned down to take the one at NASA). He has to make sure the dates work with his plans to go to Israel over winter break, but it all looks great! Now we're watching the Astros who are about to win the World Series (despite being from L.A., Maddy hates the Dodgers). Here are some photos of Snoqualmie Falls and the park around it, including a poster showing how low the water was when we visited:









  • Poem for Wednesday and Great Falls Cardinals

    The Bird Her Punctual Music Brings By Emily Dickinson The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place— Its place is in the Human…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Carderock

    A wounded Deer – leaps highest – By Emily Dickinson A wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the ecstasy of death…

  • Poem for Monday and Great Falls Sunday

    The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun By Emily Dickinson The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet—…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded