By Clark McAdams
Ye wild, free troopers of the skies
That ride in wedged ranks the blue
And unmarked roads of Paradise,
Who else but God had tutored you
That wind beset and tempest form
To buffet you with mighty sledge,
Ye still sweep onward through the storm
With that unbroken wedge?
Thrill me again, ye serried host,
With that shrill challenge which defies
The strength of whatsoever post
Is set to guard the bending skies
Against such rangers as ye are
That dare with swift and rhythmic wings
The night unlighted of a star
To guide God's feathered things.
Ye are the joy of being wild,
The sign and symbol of a blest
Estate so sweet and undented
It breathes its spirit undistressed
Adown the heights to which have soared
Since Eden was our deepest sighs—
Thrill me again, ye clamant horde,
With your wild-ringing cries.
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June went missing on Wednesday, so we had gorgeous temperatures in the low 60s. I had my annual OB-GYN appointment early in the morning -- all good, though I am going to have an ultrasound next week to check out the remote chance that a fibroid is causing all my back pain -- came home for lunch, then we went to Kohl's so Paul could pick up shoes and walked around Washingtonian Lake to see the now-adolescent goslings and their parents:
When we got home, I went looking online for a bike helmet to replace Adam's stolen one (found one on Freecycle) and a Wonder Woman Barbie because she was sold out at Target and Toys R' Us (too expensive). Adam stayed in College Park for dinner with friends, so we had leftovers here and watched a couple of tenth season Bones episodes. On Thursday I have PT in the middle of the day so sadly I can't participate in every moment of our national day of drinking while watching Comey!
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