Surprised? I know, I thought the link would go to Amazon, too, but it turns out I wrote about the poem the title refers to once before.
Those words came to me when a relative sent me a picture of a far off galaxy. Call me a hick, but I think there's plenty to see right here in the good old Milky Way before we go gallivanting off to other galaxies.
Those words, it turns out, are a misquotation from a pretty racy poem written by Andrew Marvell in the 17th century, a guy who was thinking with his quill if you get my drift.
It has seemed lately that it would take the heat from thousands of suns to ever get it to warm up here, in this coldest March in 50 years, or maybe ever. Today the wind had died down, and by this afternoon under clear blue skies, I began to entertain thoughts of spring. After checking the forecast, though, I'm beginning to think that the thoughts of spring I was entertaining were laughing at me, not with me.