Birds of a Feather

Had a visitor at 7am this morning. J had walked all the way from Kiltegan to my house to talk! I think he had already had all the conversations in his head on the way here, because there was not much left to say by the time he arrived. We had tea and I left him back up to the town.

A friend sent me this, a poem by Philip Larkin:

Love, we must part now: do not let it be
Calamitious and bitter. In the past
There has been too much moonlight and self-pity:
Let us have done with it: for now at last
Never has sun more boldly paced the sky,
Never were hearts more eager to be free,
To kick down worlds, lash forests; you and I
No longer hold them; we are husks, that see
The grain going forward to a different use.

There is regret. Always, there is regret.
But it is better that our lives unloose,
As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light,
Break from an estuary with their courses set,
And waving part, and waving drop from sight