Good morning and happy day-after-solstice. Around 8:30 p.m. I went driving around trying to find high ground from where I could watch the pink sun in the final hours of her special day. I saw her from a bridge over the river, then stared at her through dense foliage from our neighborhood miradouro. (Driving past old buildings and bushy trees and deep hills illuminated by the golden hour, I thought again how Cincinnati really does have so much in common with Lisbon.)
The weekend is here and it’s time for some poems. What has moved you of late?
Types of
I immediately forgot what I was searching for because I was so smitten by what Google thought I might want. The tender queries of summer.
Tender popcorn
Speaking of tender, please welcome Baby White and Lady Finger to the stage. Of Baby White, the author writes, “One of our smallest and most tender popcorns. It resembles and [sic] old variety that Brian planted as a teenager called Japanese hulless.” Brian, I can only imagine you harvesting your Japanese hulless, proud and ready to snack.
Not pictured: Rainbow (“fun popcorn for people who can’t makeup their minds” 🙋♀️), and Red (“fluffy and meaty white”)
Subway lime
Feeling seen, held, and loved by bestie Sonja who informed me about the languid performance of a stray lime. What became of it, I wonder? I do hope it was juiced eventually, as I imagine this is the most fulfilling destiny for a lime.
Dad’s arachnid second chair
A haiku from dad:
Another music lover
Come to see the show
This cloud
She is at once a whisper and a shout.