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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Frost on the Pumpkin

This morning I was running a little late to work so I was able to see the sun rise. In the twilight of the pre-dawn I was driving by some fallow fields iced in hoar frost. The full seed heads of grasses sparkled in the blue light, dull earth colors encased in gem ice, trees sporting new crystalline coats reflecting headlights. It was beautiful. In my head I heard the harp section from Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies." Happy Thanksgiving.

Also, it's my brother's B-day (happy happy), and my wedding Anniversary (Happy Happy).

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