By Thomas Moore
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;
I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,
The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.
And such is the fate of our life's early promise,
So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;
Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us,
And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.
Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning
When passion first waked a new life through his frame,
And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning,
Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame.
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Friday was overcast and drizzly at times, so I did exciting indoor things like folding laundry and I read a big chunk of Embassytown, which is so good that I want to track down a copy of Jo Walton's Among Others to read next and find out how in heck it beat the former for the Hugo and Nebula Awards. We took a walk to the beach, saw several eagles, and watched the Orioles lose over dinner.
We watched the first two episodes of Murderbot, which we enjoyed a lot (I didn't read the books so I had no expectations). Then, since we were on Apple TV, we watched the first three episodes of Your Friends & Neighbors, a solid entry in Eat the Rich TV and a role Jon Hamm was born to play. From the beach and marina in Edmonds last weekend, seals, boats, a train, flowers, and hazy mountain views:
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