Flower made of watered silk

This delicate flower--the rhododendron bush too delicate to survive in our yard when we were away and the watering system failed-- has almost certainly nothing to do with the much more stark and manly poem I found for tonight. It is in American Poet, Spring 2013, on page 40. Gary Snyder's presence there celebrates the Wallace Stevens Award (recognizing outstanding and proven mastery in the art of poetry!) from the Academy of American Poets given to him this year. There's a nice chunk of change with that. This poem has been one of my favorites for years and years and years and years. It has a kinship with the ancient Chinese poetry that Snyder loves, too.

Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout

Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.

I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.

I'm quite tired tonight. I finally did paint the peeling board on the patio railing. The painting was easy, but the scraping and preparation were harder. And the cleanup was rough, because I used outdoor oil paint, and had to clean the brush. I still have a few white spots on my hand, like the remnants of virtue. Now I have two more days to pack for summer and autumn in Northern Michigan. I also hope to leave this place in a decent shape.
Went to my last-of-the-season Camera Club of Eagle tonight. It was a great critique of lots of submitted photos by a woman whose whole name is, if I have it right:  Beatriz Fabiana Loverde de Huffaker. She goes by Fabiana, and has the most excellent eye. She is ever striving to improve her photography and wants you to ramp it up, too! I enjoyed every bit of this and will miss my CCoE when I am not here.