The Burnt-Out Ends

An additional post this Tuesday morning. I am heading back to the homeland for a couple of weeks. I'll be in London, Kent and Bristol seeing plays, having meetings and catching up with family and friends. If I can, I will post every so often while I'm away. Back to my regular five-day-a-week schedule upon return on March 25 .

I leave you with this bit from T. S. Eliot's Preludes. For some reason, this verse always pops into my mind when I return to the U.K. during the cold, dark months.

The winter's evening settles down With smells of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves across your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On empty blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.