the trees
the trees are coming into leaf
like something almost being said;
the recent buds relax and spread,
their greenness is a kind of grief.
is it that they are born again
and we grow old? no, they die too,
their yearly trick of looking new
is written down in rings of grain.
yet still the unresting castles thresh
in fullgrown thickness every may.
last year is dead, they seem to say,
begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
by philip larkin (1922-1985)
----
chanda and i met marlene for brunch at hudson hound this afternoon at 1 pm. it was great to see her. she's teaching her teen class this semester at hb again.
i also met kendall and aurélien coming home from upstate and helped them bring their bags up to the apartment. she lucked out with a good parking spot!











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