THE WIND BLEW HARD

and the cygnet having her bath, stood in ankle deep water.
There had appeared suddenly in the pond a whole family again. And in the little pond nearby there was still a swan pair. They did not seem to mind about the fact that they were all so near now. That had been very different in the autumn.
Really, really the last time we wentered Mischa's old flat, to catch the latest items, do some cleaning and remove the smoke detectors.
In the afternoon Piet Hein and I cycled to the beach of Kijkduin.
A lot of people were walking along the sea, the rough weather had attracted them. A strong wind and a rather grey sky. Still I liked the walk, so good to see the endless waves and the gulls in the sky, their wonderful skill of flying.
When we had come back again we followed the French television and saw the streets of Paris filled with so many thousands persons, of all ages, of all colours, united in their protest.

My haiku:

At the horizon
The perspective diffuses
Nothing seems the same

And the quote by Emerson in Journals:

My evening visitors, if they cannot see the clock should find the time in
my face.