Temper
By Beth Bachmann
Some things are damned to erupt like wildfire,
windblown, like wild lupine, like wings, one after
another leaving the stone-hole in the greenhouse glass.
Peak bloom, a brood of blue before firebrand.
And though it is late in the season, the bathers, also,
obey. One after another, they breathe in and butterfly
the surface: mimic white, harvester, spot-celled sister,
fed by the spring, the water beneath is cold.
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I had a really nice lunch and early afternoon with
I ended up having to uninstall Google Gears, which removes my access to offline mail as well as offline docs. That let me see the documents online. Then when I tried to reinstall Google Gears just for mail, having told Google Docs to disable my offline access, the offline access wouldn't turn off and I couldn't see my documents again, even after much cache-clearing. So I am very frustrated and lost a huge number of hours battling the laptop just to see my own documents (most of which are saved in draft form on my desktop, but when I'm away from the desktop on my laptop, that doesn't help). I know, on a global scale this is minor, but it really screwed up my late afternoon and still isn't resolved. We watched a Star Trek episode I need to review on Friday in the evening, then as much of the Celtics-Lakers game as we could get in before Jon Stewart's nightly blasting of Glenn Beck.
A heron overlooked the water...
...possibly hoping to spot and eat one of these.
There were turtles in the water, too...
...and sleepy ducks not in the mood for swimming.
But as usual my favorites were the goslings...
...both the babies above and these gawky adolescents.
These two families seemed willing to give each other their space.