By D.H. Lawrence
Love has crept into her sealed heart
As a field bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.
Love has crept into her summery eyes,
And a glint of colored sunshine brings
Such as his along the folded wings
Of the bee before he flies.
But I with my ruffling, impatient breath
Have loosened the wings of the wild young sprite;
He has opened them out in a reeling flight,
And down her words he hasteneth.
Love flies delighted in her voice:
The hum of his glittering, drunken wings
Sets quivering with music the little things
That she says, and her simple words rejoice.
We took Maddy to Hanover on Sunday to see her grandparents, where we had gorgeous weather and lots of depressing news (personal, political, and otherwise) to share along with pizza. I did run out to Wal-Mart to get butternut squash soup for Adam, which we brought to him along with what was left of our veggie lunch pizzas in College Park, plus we took him out for Indian food. He is pretty exhausted from taking so many credits getting an engineering and math dual degree, considering doing a computer science instead of computer engineering degree so that he can focus on the math that's the real focus of his interest, and he may be losing his roommate, who wants to live somewhere less expensive.
While keeping one eye on the Seahawks-Patriots game, we watched Once Upon a Time which I loved because it was entirely Henry's Two Moms, then Westworld which has some very serious misogyny going on that's getting harder to stomach. At least Masters of Sex ended its season on the right note. We just watched John Oliver's final bit for the year, "F___ You, 2016!", and although he begged people to stop sharing memes and clips from infotainment shows in favor of the real journalism that was in such short supply this election year, I must note that it sums up my feelings about this not-even-yet-finished year as perfectly as it seems to sum up so many other people's.