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Nitecap: Lost and Found

The weeks rush on like waves.  The waves whisper, susurration, the truth comes out, one wave at a time.  Sheeeeee, on the sand, to the one who stands on the shore, moved incrementally, the water eroding the sand beneath the feet, pulling out to sea, receding in foamy strands, to leave us standing ankle deep aware of the lovely thing that prostrates all things.  Learn to float.

Bedtime Story

An Irish lullaby from Lisa Hannigan…

Ahhhh, and a little Basil-Hayden’s to hurry me off to Tir nan og, land of eternal youth…

This is an open thread.