My ego's playing: "making sandcastles". The sea: sweeps in, shushing smooth.
With acknowledgements to Alfred, Lord Tennyson (who wrote the initial poem about the disastrous charge of the light brigade in the battle of Balaclava) and Julian Armistead (who came up with this analogy).
Charge of the brexit brigade.
1854 and someone has blundered,
as is now evident
from the latest intelligence:
‘They have guns to our sabres’,
But orders are in place now
and orders are orders:
charge means charge,
and you do not review orders,
– only execute them –
(too late for intelligence).
So: ‘charge for the guns’
and ‘there’ll be no ‘U’ turns’
Ours not to make a reply
but to carry our flag
with brave and glorious acquiescence
and charge on into the valley of death.
Ours not to reason why
for ‘charge means charge’,
and charge we must:
‘charge for the guns’,
with sabres held high,
Ours but to do and die.
You stars in heaven: sky jewels. Teach me please to shine through the darkness.
Enjoy it or not your life will certainly end... ... might as well enjoy!
Janet and I spent this morning watching the wonderfully named ‘silver-washed fritillaries’.
Here comes one:
She’s a female.
She’s drinking nectar on a blackberry bush
This is what she looks like underneath and why they are called ‘silver-washed’. They are Britain’s largest fritillary and seem to be having a great year.
Here she is again, fluttering her wings to attract a male.
…….and here he comes:
You can tell he’s a male because of the four black stripes on his forewings. These are sex brands. When he finds a female they go on a lovely nuptial flight together flying over and under each other.
Then they land together and circling around her he tries to touch her antennae to his sex brands to arouse her further.
Here he seems about to succeed … or could they be heading for a … butterfly kiss?
We hope he was successful and that they had wonderful sex – for another generation of these awesome insects.
The hot orange joy of them quite took our breath away.
Your out breath ... my in, Your in breath ... my out. We share the same skin.
Giving up all things, to drink a cup of nothing ... it quenches the thirst!