Where'd the morning go? Before I even made coffee, I found myself reading a submitted essay for BOR. It's a goody. I think you'll dig.
The sky is clear and the aloe on my window sill has come back to life. Haven't started in to the serious packing yet, but it's coming. Can almost hear the sound of a packing tape gun now.
Here's a little Blake for your funky soul:
Ah Sunflower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sunflower wishes to go.