By Frances Darwin Cornford
My room's a square and candle-lighted boat,
In the surrounding depths of night afloat;
My windows are the portholes, and the seas
The sound of rain on the dark apple-trees.
Seamonster-like beneath, an old horse blows
A snort of darkness from his sleeping nose,
Below, among drowned daisies. Far off, hark!
Far off one owl amidst the waves of dark.
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I spent Wednesday morning chatting with my high school friends even though I saw both Kay and Linda last week, and an hour of the afternoon watching the first episode of Loki with Kristen. In between, I finally finished unpacking, reorganized some craft stuff, and took a walk to the beach, which was very chilly but the ducks did not seem all that concerned.
After dinner, we watched Doctor Who's "The Star Beast" -- enjoyable, a little predictable, so good to see Donna again -- then The Masked Singer's disco night episode, goofy fun, and now the first episode of Faraway Downs, still uneven like Australia but superbly filmed. Some of the lighted boats from Frederick's Sailing Through the Solstice in Carroll Creek:
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