The Edges of Time
By Kay Ryan
It is at the edges
that time thins.
Time which had been
dense and viscous
as amber suspending
intentions like bees
unseizes them. A
humming begins,
apparently coming
from stacks of
put-off things or
just in back. A
racket of claims now,
as time flattens. A
glittering fan of things
competing to happen,
brilliant and urgent
as fish when seas
retreat.
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Tuesday was not exciting around here -- mostly chores, writing, making appointments, repairing a pair of earrings. We actually managed to take a walk this afternoon with no animal crisis interruptions, so I got to visit with bunnies while enjoying the woods. (I have no news on the bird and am unlikely to get any; Second Chance Wildlife has a phone recording saying they don't have time to give updates on rescued patients because they're so short-staffed. So I will just hope for the best.)
I watched "The Swarm" with my Voyager group, after a long fight with my computer to get Zoom working; none of us remembered the details of the episode and I enjoyed it despite the forgettable plot. Then my computer tried to install the latest Windows update and we had a really, really long fight, so I was distracted during Supergirl despite the musical number, giant cat, and witchcraft, and during the season finale of Miracle Workers despite Daniel Radcliffe at an orgy. Herons and egrets of Assateague Island:
