incandescens | we hates the rain, my precious

Quiet but busy day, which was really all I wanted. Started miserably, with me missing bus by about 30 seconds and watching it zoom away down the road, then next bus not arriving after 20 minutes, then bus after that finally arriving after 40 minutes -- it was raining, so I was glad the bus shelter had a roof on it -- then the ticket machine at the station eating a five pound note, and the train being late.

Other than that, it was quite a nice day. Really.

Apart from the bits where I got rained on.

---

Four Songs of Four Seasons: Winter In Northumberland

[...]

In fierce March weather
White waves break tether,
And whirled together
At either hand,
Like weeds uplifted,
The tree-trunks rifted
In spars are drifted,
Like foam or sand,
Past swamp and sallow,
And reed-beds callow,
Through pool and shallow,
To wind and lee,
Till, no more tongue-tied,
Full flood and young tide
Roar down the rapids and storm the sea.

As men's cheeks faded
On shores invaded,
When shorewards waded
The lords of fight;
When churl and craven
Saw hard on haven
The wide-winged raven
At mainmast height;
When monks affrighted
To windward sighted
The birds full-flighted
Of swift sea-kings;
So earth turns paler
When Storm the sailor
Steers in with a roar in the race of his wings.

[...]

-- Swinburne