Poetry Tuesday: Persimmons

For this poetry tuesday, a poem I just re-discovered that is a favorite of an old friend:

Crush
by Ada Limon

Maybe my limbs are made
mostly for decoration
like the way I feel about
persimmons. You can't
really eat them. Or you
wouldn't want to. If you grab
the soft side with your fist
it somehow feels funny,
like you've been here
before and uncomfortable,
too, like you'd rather
squish it between your teeth
impatiently, before spitting
the soft parts back up
to linger on the tongue like
burnt sugar or guilt.
For starts, it was all
an accident, you cut
the right branch 
and a sort of light
woke up underneath,
and the indelible fruit
grew dark and needy.
Think crucial hanging.
Think crayon orange.
There is one low, leaning
heart-shaped globe left
and dearest, can you
tell, I am trying
to love you less.

welcome, october

how lucky am i that my first day off in over two weeks is the first day of the best month of the whole year?  well, and coincidentally, the day the rest of DC is also off (thank you Mr Speaker).  my plans for a whole day to myself in the city I'm making my life is to read in bed all morning, slowly sipping coffee and using the other parts of my brain (check!), meet a friend for brunch to hear about the wonderful world of politics, head to a vinyasa yoga class to get all stretched out, and then to the Hirshorn Museum of sculpture and art, back home to do a bit of educational reading, make dinner for my husband-of-the-future and myself, and curl into bed with one of my new books.  what could be better?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I am so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers" 

-Anne of Green Gables