There seemed to be a particular clarity today. Everything looked so close that I wondered if it was going to rain.
Then I remembered I was wearing my new lensed sunglasses.
The preacher kept right on saying all I had to do was send ten dollars to the Church of the Sacred Bleeding Heart of Jesus located somewhere in Los Angeles, California [said a voice in my ear] and next week they'd say my prayer on the radio and I'd be able to see!
Gotta poem we can be in, missus?
They were in turn upstaged by a gang of young, excitable ravens surfing the stiff onshore breeze over the dunes, but I'm only allowed one poem a year with a raven in it and I've already had my quota for 2017.
It looked a bit stormy over the Quantocks as we headed for the pub. I couldn't help thinking about other islanders a long way to the south and west who are a lot less secure than we are right now.