was pretty busy yesterday didn’t follow lot of the news
Last week, a reporter asked Johnson about one of the bigger scandals since Trump again took office. The Washington Post reported that a military commander, following a directive from the defense secretary, Pete Hegseth, ordered a follow-up strike to kill survivors of a US attack on an alleged drug boat in the Caribbean, which, according to some lawmakers, potentially constituted a war crime.
In this rare case, even some Republican lawmakers raised concerns about the incident. Leaders of the House and Senate armed services committees said they would conduct “rigorous oversight” to determine what happened.
Meanwhile, Johnson’s response was: “I’m not going to prejudge any of that. I was pretty busy yesterday. I didn’t follow a lot of the news.”
notice the daylight sometimes passes in hurry to get someplace else
Did you notice the daylight today? These days are short in December. It comes before dark. Sometimes it passes in a hurry to get someplace else more friendly, perhaps. Fiji, maybe. We become forgetful and miss it some days. In March there were six different warblers in one willow bush. What else could you possibly want from daylight?
Daylight by Jim Harrison in Dead Man’s Float as published in the Complete Poems of Jim Harrison (Copper Canyon Press: Port Townsend, WA 2021).
the happiness he gives, is quite as great, as if it cost a fortune
When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two “Prentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds: which were under a counter in the back shop.
During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them, that he remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.
“A small matter,” said the Ghost, “to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”
“Small!” echoed Scrooge.
The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig; and when he had done so, said,
“Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money—three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?”
“It isn’t that,” said Scrooge; heated by the remark and speaking unconsciously like his former—not his latter—self. “It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome: a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up—what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great, as if it cost a fortune.”
A Christmas Carol in Prose : Being a Ghost Story of Christmas.
Autograph manuscript signed, December 1843 from the JP Morgan Library.
does the grain of sand know it is a grain of sand in any order
Does the grain of sand know it is a grain of sand? Will secrets fly out of me when I break open? Are the stars standing in any order? Is supplication useful? Exactly.
Riprap #8 as published in The Leaf and Cloud by Mary Oliver (Da Capo: New York, 2000)
In the fly leaf to the copy of The Leaf and Cloud that I have is written:
AN ASTONISHING book-length poem in seven parts from the winner of the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award With piercing clarity and craftsmanship, Mary Oliver has fashioned this unforgettable poem of questioning and discovery, about what is observable and what is not, about what passes and what persists.
Questioning and discovery.
About what is observable and what is not.
About what passes and what persists.
My regular readers know how I love to brag that when I am in the office, I get to spend my lunch hour walking the beach on the Atlantic Coast of South Carolina.
I take a sandy path through a salt marsh and then beach grass to the waters edge.
Its the same every day.
It is different every day.
It passes.
It persists.
It is observable.
It is unseen.
Does the grain of sand know it is a grain of sand?
Are the stars standing in any order?
Is supplication useful?
Observable or unseen?
There is a story told that back in World War 2, at one of the summit meetings of President Franklin Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Marshall Josef Staling, Mr. Churchill mention that the point of view of the Pope should be considered on some point.
Mr. Stalin famously rebuked Mr. Churchill, saying something like, “The Pope, how many divisions does he have?”
Most historical accounts stop there.
But some do include Mr. Churchill’s response.
He said, “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
but what is it then that is here, here in this world, and … and yet not here?
But what is it then that sits in my heart, that breathes so quietly, and without lungs— that is here, here in this world, and yet not here?
Book of Time #7 as published in The Leaf and Cloud by Mary Oliver (Da Capo: New York, 2000)
Park road at Sunset on Pinckney Island, November 2025
The sunset is within 30 days of its lowest point on the horizon and it’s just before 5pm.
The sun shine off to one side and the road curves away.
Here and not yet here.
There is a silence that breathes so quietly and without lungs.
The park closes at 5 p.m.
Well.
The park closes at sunset and today, that is 5 p.m.
The park closes at sunset and the park closes at 5 p.m. both are correct.
They say that the gates will open when you approach from the park side after hours.
But have never wanted to test out this theory.
As the Sheriff in Fort Myers, Florida said about crime after Hurricane Helene, “We have a very active natural night life that discourages after hours looting.”
No Haiku For You 