I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
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Off for the week to the shore. Blog you when I get back.
3 comments:
I'm jealous. Have fun.
Have a good time -- I wish I were going to the sea.
Let's hope she comes back with just the two children she left with--I have visions of Dan having to deliver the baby on some godforsaken stretch of PA highway. If Simon thought the incident of the car getting beaned by a foul ball was shocking, I'd hate to hear what he'd think of witnessing a roadside birth...
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