This is one of my favorite poems, and it does double duty today, as it is written by an Irishman.

When You Are Old by W.B. Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Daily gratitudes:
Blue skies
No shoveling today
Excellent colleagues
Cold pillows
A touch of Larceny

Quote of the day: “Some ghosts are so quiet you would hardly know they were there.” — Bernie McGill