Worlds Within and Without

Monday Morning Musings:

Trapped. Colonial Garden at Red Bank Battlefield. ©️Merril D. Smith, 2021

Trillions of stars, the brilliant dead light
a memory of long-ago pulsations, heartbeats
of the universe,
our own an echo,
a timeless rhythm, with an infinite number
of endings and beginnings.


Cosmic waves and tiny teardrops both ripple
the fabric of space-time, a black hole
where once you stood—
there are more viruses than stars, says the virologist,
trying to predict catastrophe—but what of all the ifs and all the possible impossible timelines?
The chicken not hatched, not carried? The bat that flew in a different direction?
The iron in our blood comes from the stars, unseen sparks
passed through generations, we give it back to earth and sea,
without evolving, or perhaps not quickly enough—


I watch the ancestors of dinosaurs fly into tomorrow,
and in the scent of wine, smell the grapes and flowers of yesterday.

We went out for a bit to a local winery this week. Now that it’s summer, we’’ll be doing that more often.
No movies this week, but we streamed a fascinating play The Catastrophist by Lauren Gunderson. It’s about her husband, virologist Nathan Wolfe, played by William DeMerritt—who is excellent. Gunderson says the play “is a time-twisting, memory-jumping play about family, memory, mortality and viruses.”
Since Dexter is supposed to be back in the fall, we’re watching the entire series now. I’ve seen it, but my husband never did. We’re still on Season 1, but he’s hooked now.
I listened to part of the Ted Radio Hour on NPR, where I heard a scientist describe the importance of both dinosaurs’ lungs helped them to dominate their world, and how birds have very similar lungs. Then a scent historian described recreating historical scents and how important scents and the sense of smell are.

I went INTO a library and browsed for the first time in over a year! I was giddy–so many books!

And a bonus–turkeys

There seemed to be a fight and the exiling of one turkey.