Today, after taking the dog to the vet, I get to crouch in the garden in 90-degree heat picking our first batch of beans. Deer flies will be dive-bombing my head, and bean rash will be spreading over my forearms, all for the sake of a colander of tiny, tiny slivers of new beans. Before enlightenment I hauled water and chopped wood. After enlightenment I hauled water and chopped wood. Did you notice that Thoreau and Woody Guthrie have birthdays in the same week? I think I will invite them both over for dinner tonight. I bet they like beans.
In the meantime I think I'll give you a random sample from the anthology. . and apparently what you're getting today is from Ornithology, poet Lynda Hull's tribute to Charlie Parker--a bracing cityscape break from my country-mouse chatter:
. . .Women smoked the boulevards
with gardenias afterhours, asphalt shower-
slick, ozone charging air with sixteenth
notes, that endless convertible ride to find