Here’s another tidbit from our July journey. I fear I may have taken some liberties in it that I hope my fiber artist friends will forgive.
Roving
the sky is getting ready
to spin: see how she cards
the clouds on the teeth
of the ridgeline, drawing them out
in strong, straight lines
I’ve been off the grid for a few days, which has left me lots of time with pen and paper. This poem riffs on things I saw while traveling and does not necessarily reflect any actual geographic location.
city of bridges, you dangle from the neck
of the mainland by spider
webs and steel, a jewel on the breast of the bay
as it rises and falls, breathing
with the moon
…because I skipped Saturday. According to the official April A-Z Challenge rules, skipping Sundays results in the correct number of days in the month (26). Seeing as yesterday ended up the kind of day when I didn’t even turn on my computer, I decided to skip yesterday and blog today instead. As my grandmother always used to say, “It all comes out in the wash.”
Friends have been clamoring for me to blog about my time in London (okay, one friend suggested it out of politeness) so I’ll begin with a few of my impressions of the place.
– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that you can get a cup of hot tea just about anywhere (and most places a pot), and they bring you milk when you ask for it, not half-n-half or non-dairy creamer (ye gods!) because they are at a loss.
– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that they have excellent public transit. We never had to wait more than five minutes for a bus or tube train and could transfer between lines and modes without difficulty.
– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that people seemed to conduct themselves in public with a reasonable degree of awareness of and courtesy toward those around them. (Except that young couple who wouldn’t stop snogging on the tube platform one afternoon. And folks leaving the bars at 3:00 a.m. And the French schoolchildren, as mentioned in an earlier post. But maybe the latter don’t count because they’re not British.)
– It is incredibly civilized. By which I mean that even the corner quickie mart offered a delightful array of British cheddars in the cold case with nary a slice or block of petroleum-based American cheese product in sight.
– It is incredibly civilized. By which I mean that it is considered perfectly appropriate to have a pint of ale with lunch. Every day. And with dinner, too.
(Caveat: These are merely my impressions from a brief sojourn. If I am wildly mistaken, I welcome gentle correction from folks more knowledgeable than I in these matters.)
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