Another gray dawn

Air temperature 51 F, wind south about 8 mph, fog oozing in from the coast hangs low overhead. This is probably a nibble-at-the-chores day, having used up all my save-the-world energy long ago.

(no subject)

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -