trade winds

Meeting today went far better and faster than I'd expected. Not perfect, but then no meeting is. (It's interesting to note how much less I dislike meetings now in this current job than I did previously before it. I can't say I like them, but they move through the details rapidly, discussion is generally to the point (with the occasional swerve into General Complaint), and the people are . . . well, the people are better.)

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Trade Winds

In the harbor, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
The shuffle of the dancers, the old salt's tale,
The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

And o' nights there's fire-flies and the yellow moon,
And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

-- John Masefield