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Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow...

The Moon! The Moon , Gunnar Ekelof The moon passes her hand softly over my eyes, Wakes me long into the night. Lonesome among the sleepers, I lay wood on the fire, fuss about with smoking sticks, Move quietly among the shadows, shadows flapping high Above the brown logs, richly Decorated with glistening fish-lures... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow...

You can't get mad at weather because weather's not about you. Apply that lesson to most other aspects of life.

Quite right Ezra. Quite right.

One ought to look a good deal at oneself before thinking of condemning others.

Ezra and Henry take their own turn at fire watching.

The moon passes her hand softly over my eyes

Kuu. As seen from Geilston Bay, Tasmania. March 2013. I love the moon. It's great. I'm off to donate blood. The Moon , Gunnar Ekelof The moon passes her hand softly over my eyes, Wakes me long into the night. Lonesome among the sleepers, I lay wood on the fire, fuss about with smoking sticks, Move quietly among the shadows, shadows flapping high Above the brown logs, richly Decorated with glistening fish-lures... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow... Why did I wake? Lonesome among the sleepers, Backs turned to the fire, I open the door quietly, Walk around the corner in the snow, tramp on the clumps, see Moonlight coldly calling me over the snow...