Catching Up

This week I finally got a report from the Clinic on my labs: Everything was normal. Surprise!

I took all my Z-pack last week, and I feel fine. My face and throat don't hurt any more, but I still sneeze and cough, so it must be allergies. Like from cat hair, mold and dust. If someone would only clean the place up! My Amazon/Facebook friend Cindy has all this haus-frau energy; wish I could put her in my basement for about half a day.

I've got through the latest batch of alterations to Big Baby, and selected all my poems for my Semi-Complete volume. Now I just have to revise about two dozen of them.
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Today I'm thinking of Spring. Or Fall, or Winter. Any season but Too Hot.

The Goose-Girl, by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still;
And all the loveliest things there be
Come simply, so, it seems to me.
If ever I said, in grief or pride,
I tired of honest things, I lied,
And should be cursed forevermore
With love in laces like a whore,
And neighbors cold, and friends unsteady,
And Spring on horseback like a lady.
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I have an old china vase, with flowers and a girl feeding a goose on it, sitting on the chest in the hall. Every time I notice it, I think of Millay's poem.