By Katharine Lee Bates
Grim stones whose gray lips keep your secret well,
Our hands that touch you touch an ancient terror,
An ancient woe, colossal citadel
Of some fierce faith, some heaven-affronting error.
Rude-built, as if young Titans on this wold
Once played with ponderous blocks a striding giant
Had brought from oversea, till child more bold
Tumbled their temple down with foot defiant.
Upon your fatal altar Redbreast combs
A fluttering plume, and flocks of eager swallows
Dip fearlessly to choose their April homes
Amid your crevices and storm-beat hollows.
Even so in elemental mysteries,
Portentous, vast, august, uncomprehended,
Do we dispose our little lives for ease,
By their unconscious courtesies befriended.
Thursday was another packing, scanning, and schlepping day for me (Paul did not have Veterans Day off, so we didn't do much to observe it besides watch coverage on TV). On Friday we're having various toys picked up by AmVets, magazines picked up by someone local, and the rest of my Star Trek books plus some collectibles picked up by the guy who has all my Pocket Books and Trek biographies. I have one more shipment of stuff for Texas A&M, and in the course of packing up magazines, I found a huge trove of Space: 1999 fan fiction that's joining that collection.
Otherwise, it was another lovely day to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather, so I cleaned the deck and we took a walk (no owl or bunnies, just local pets). Around dinner -- Beyond Burgers and home fries -- we watched most of the Maryland-GW game, which the Terps won; then we watched the Baltimore-Miami game around my Thursday night Zoom chat, which was a disaster (the Ravens play, not the chat, since the Dolphins defense overwhelmed them). Here are some more photos of Foamhenge, the styrofoam Stonehenge replica at Cox Farms, moved from Natural Bridge: