gloaming; noun, [gloh-ming]
- (literary) twilight, dusk.
the weather today was outrageously beautiful, and i threw aside work to catch some sun:
- visited the brooklyn flea market (i have never seen so many overpriced donuts, but the knick-knacks and old bicycles were fascinating)
- folk fest 2017 on butler lawn!! free coffee and good tunes
- all the trees over campus are blooming, just in time for seniors taking graduation photos and for me to cry over how pretty spring is
- re-stocked on farmer’s market apples, i am the happiest horse
- “sweet spring is your time is my time is our time for springtime is lovetime and viva sweet love”
- also, time for spring cleaning, during which i get to unleash my inner cleaning demon and whip out lint sheets and q-tips to scrub every nook and cranny of this dormitory
- one last week of class before reading period and finals—time has, once again, escaped
and for today’s poem, here is “catalog of unabashed gratitude” by ross gay. it’s a love letter to small things like bees and blackberries and the wonderful word “bumblefucked,” but mostly, it’s a love letter to life, because we don’t say thank you enough, and even amidst our troubles and worries, we often forget to give the world our gratitude.