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4:25 a.m.


A shaded lamp and a waving blind,

And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:

On this scene enter- winged, horned, and spined –

A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;

While ‘mid my page there idly stands

A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands …


Thus meet we five, in this still place,

At this point of time, at this point in space.

– My guests parade my new-penned ink,

Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.

“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?

They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

-An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy

• • • • • • •

I feel I may soon dream of James and that giant peach …

Meant to read just one- one page, one poem- before a little sleep.

Half a book of Hardy later, thoughts of night, of quiet lone walks now repeat.

Above, lies the last read.

A nice note to end on:

Give honor and respect to even the small and common.

The “humblest”, says he.

For each and all know of something we as yet do not.

Homer and Marge Simpson

And after that peach? Dreamin’ somethin’ along these lines, maybe.

Those sideburns … George Burns … Gracie … say “goodnight” … goodnight … goodnight, Gracie …


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