Today is Kwe’s first day at doggie school. I think I (sort of) understand how parents feel when they drop their kids off at school the first day. I’ve been thinking about him all day, but I haven’t gotten any phone calls, so I assume he’s doing fine.
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Mac Update: Our computer problems are only getting worse. In addition to not recognizing the battery, now the back light for the screen doesn’t work. We’re going to pay the $280 to send it to Apple.
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This is pretty cool.
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Your fall poem for the week:
a lateral fathom at the first cold rain,
the surface near to silver from a frosty hill.
Along the weed and grain of log he slides his tail.
Nervously the trout (his stream-toned heart
locked in the lake, his poise and nerve disgraced)
above the stirring catfish, curves in bluegill dreams
and curves beyond the sudden thrust of bass.
Surface calm and calm act mask the detonating fear,
the moving crayfish claw, the stare
of sunfish hovering above the cloud-stained sand,
a sucker nudging cans, the grinning maskinonge.
How do carp resolve the eel and terror here?
They face so many times this brown-ribbed fall of leaves
predicting weather foreign as a shark or prawn
and floating still above them in the paling sun.
Richard Hugo
Brianna Pike 