Marginal Notes from a Book of Horace


Let your hair down before you pull it back again. Time passes like a river,
carries us to death’s grey Atlantic. But for now, we have these days
of pretty insobriety — pleasure boating, wine, and walks in the orchard.
So raise your cup to the dusking light. Life isn’t always vernal flowers
and the pink moons of spring. But sometimes it is.