Trying not to look forward to spring, but: here's a poem

Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself

At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.

He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.

The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow...
It would have been outside.

It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier-mache...
The sun was coming from the outside.

That scrawny cry--It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,

Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.

Wallace Stevens

Men's Figure Skating

Lycecek totally deserved the Gold that he won and Weir deserved better than 6th place (I think he deserved 4th).

I have spoken.

Oh, and I liked the guy—Japanese skater Nobunari Oda—who did the Charlie Chaplin thing in his routine, stopped it b/c of a wonky shoe lace, repaired it, and went back, finished the program like there was no pause in time. That guy totally was fun.