That was late in the morning, and as the day progressed (starting a new post because cutting and pasting the poem had somehow moved my right tab leftwards. Rather than fuck with the settings I am doing another post) our victory has become surer and surer. You know I was aware how states with Trumpist state houses had forbade the counting of mail in ballots until after polls closed to please Trump who wanted to use that to steal the election. But when they were counting the ballots CNN didn't emphasize which states were doing that, hence my premature despair,
But then as the day progressed and it was soon apparent that nothing like the great blue wave was going to happen the despair crept in again. Mainly in that we did not take the Senate. That is going to be a big problem going forward. One which I am not going to go on and on about, because it is Indian summer right now, and I want to get out on the balcony. There are some clouds near the horizon and I am expecting a beautiful sunrise. I am expecting some beauty.
And since there can never be too much poetry let us hear from John Keats.
Notice, not a word about furnaces or trucks.
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