A couple of systemic failures

We had a power outage last night [again]. This time with not a thunderstorm nearby. Too many folks with the AC turned up tripping a circuit breaker at Xcel? According to their web page, the outage was shared by us and thousands of our neighbors. A smaller scale instance of the fragility of our power grid? The outage we had a week or two ago at least had a thunderstorm for context. I’m not sure but I believe crews had the outage fixed before Xcel’s web page announced an estimated time when power would be restored. Maybe it is time to take another look at solar panels and a battery wall.

the failure wasn’t this local

Photo by J. Harrington

All is not sour grapes today, however. This is a day I decided not to go fly fishing, despite yesterday’s posting. Why is that good news? The wind is out of the SSW at 15 to 25 mph. My casting isn’t good enough to cope with that kind of “breeze.” Today is also the day I discovered one of my favorite poets, Ted Kooser, has managed recently to sneak not one, but two, volumes into publication without my knowing. Actually, the second volume is published in September, so I don’t feel so bad. What I do find strange is neither volume is mentioned on the books page of Kooser’s web site.

A Man with a Rake was published in March of this year. Cotton Candy, Poems Dipped Out of the Air will be published come September. I bet the author spends lots less time doomscrolling social media than I do. There’s a lesson there if I’m smart enough to learn it. Maybe I need to go and write 500 times “Reading good poetry is more rewarding than reading great Tweets.”

Walking on Tiptoe

By Ted Kooser

Long ago we quit lifting our heels

like the others—horse, dog, and tiger—

though we thrill to their speed

as they flee. Even the mouse

bearing the great weight of a nugget

of dog food is enviably graceful.

There is little spring to our walk,

we are so burdened with responsibility,

all of the disciplinary actions

that have fallen to us, the punishments,

the killings, and all with our feet

bound stiff in the skins of the conquered.

But sometimes, in the early hours,

we can feel what it must have been like

to be one of them, up on our toes,

stealing past doors where others are sleeping,

and suddenly able to see in the dark.

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