Friday, April 26, 2024

Poem for Thursday and Washingtonian Goslings

Above the Dock 
By T.E. Hulme 

Above the quiet dock in mid night, 
Tangled in the tall mast’s corded height, 
Hangs the moon. What seemed so far away 
Is but a child’s balloon, forgotten after play. 

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Much of my Thursday involved chores, but the trip laundries are folded and put away and the various cleaning and recycling have been taken care of. And we took a walk to the beach in the rain, where we saw eagles and coots, then walked out on the newly refurbished dock and saw two families of tiny ducklings -- one with six baby ducks and one with a dozen! 

I talked to my Thursday night chat group, visited with my cat-sitting neighbors, then we watched this week's episode of Sugar as well as the finale of Shogun (less seppuku than I was expecting, but of course the death fetish had to be indulged; I'm not sorry this series is over). We may have ducklings here, but Washingtonian Lake in Gaithersburg has goslings:

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