4.4 miles
st. thomas loop*
57 degrees / humidity: 88%
*a new loop! 43rd ave, north/31st st, east/46th ave, north/lake street, east/lake street bridge/up marshall hill/cleveland, south/summit ave, west/east river road, south/lake street bridge/west river road, south/stop at ancient boulder
A grayish-white, or white-ish gray?, morning. Cool, not crisp but damp. Lots of leaves on the ground. Lots of gold in the trees — more gold than red or orange. No rowers on the river, but at least one or two roller skiers on the path. I felt good.
Recited Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Spring and Fall” and Robert Frost’s “Nothing Gold Can Stay” as I ran. I struggle with the rhythm in Hopkins’ third and fourth lines:
Leaves, the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
I don’t remember anything else I thought about. What did I think about? I’m happy to lose some thoughts and some time.
A quote from the wonderful Pádraig Ó Tuama about poetry:
A little block of letters in the middle of a blank page can open up windows into your world, and offer help, insight, company, spaciousness, reflection, and solidarity. In solitude we can appreciate a deeper solitude. In need we can approach company.” —Pádraig Ó Tuama
@duanalla
And, some more regular questions to ask ourselves that I want to add to my undisciplined site:
What are we pretending not to know today?” —Toni Cade Bambara What are we pretending not to see? What have we pretended not to see for a long, long time?
Deborah E. McDowell