apologies, poetry
I appear to have fallen off the face of the planet in the last week. I was sick for much of it, I was the lone supervisor at work and stressed the rest of it, there was the holiday, there was family stuff, and my brain steadfastly refused to leave its Daniel Jackson Happy Place long enough to write boots fic or Reed and Johnny Chairfic for Laura, no matter what I did. I said "boots" and wanted cannons and sails and got archaeologists and 23 languages. Not a bad trade, but not helpful when I can't even come up with an entry to my own challenge. *pout*
Fortunately, you all provided much good reading which is waiting for me to play catch up. In penance, I give you poetry.
Neither Out Far Nor In Deep
By Robert Frost
The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.
They look at the sea all day.
As long as it takes to pass
A ship keeps raising its hull;
The wetter ground like glass
Reflects a standing gull
The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be--
The water comes ashore,
And the people look at the sea.
They cannot look out far.
They cannot look in deep.
But when was that ever a bar
To any watch they keep?
Fortunately, you all provided much good reading which is waiting for me to play catch up. In penance, I give you poetry.
Neither Out Far Nor In Deep
By Robert Frost
The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.
They look at the sea all day.
As long as it takes to pass
A ship keeps raising its hull;
The wetter ground like glass
Reflects a standing gull
The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be--
The water comes ashore,
And the people look at the sea.
They cannot look out far.
They cannot look in deep.
But when was that ever a bar
To any watch they keep?