The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Wednesday, Get Out, Cunningham Falls

Autumn Twilight, Dwelling Among Mountains
By Wang Wei
Translated by David Hinton

In empty mountains after the new rains,
it's late. Sky-ch'i has brought autumn –

bright moon incandescent in the pines,
crystalline stream slipping across rocks.

Bamboo rustles: homeward washerwomen.
Lotuses waver: a boat gone downstream.

Spring blossoms wither away by design,
but a distant recluse can stay on and on.


Tuesday was another gorgeous November day! I had lunch with my friend Noelle, whom I've known since elementary school, though like several of my childhood friends, I've spoken to her more in the Facebook decade than in the two decades before that. We went to Goldberg's Bagels and talked politics, pop culture, and our families (and by coincidence the French teacher from our middle school came to get bagels, so I got to say hi to her, too). When we returned to our families, I took Daniel, who had had lunch with my father, to pick up his medical records from his pediatrician so that he'll have his immunization schedule in Seattle.

Daniel wanted to work out in the afternoon, so I did some work, took a walk, and tried to get Cinnamon to eat since she was sick last night and this morning (I think the Fancy Feast tuna primavera did not agree with her). Paul made black pepper (fake) chicken for dinner, then we watched this week's The Flash, and, because Daniel had not seen it and I'd watched it on a plane so the sound wasn't great, we watched Get Out, which is pretty terrifying and extremely well done. Our leaves are mostly brown now, so here are a few more photos of how autumn looked at Cunningham Falls with Paul's parents a couple of weeks ago:









  • 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