"Listen Stars light, listen, listen,"

{With tail to catch moon should it fall.}

'tis 'the witching time of night'
Orbed is the Moon and bright
And the Stars they glisten, glisten
Seeming with bright eyes to listen
For what listen they?
For a song and for a charm
See they glisten in alarm
And the Moon is waxing warm
To hear what I shall say.
Moon keep wide thy golden ears
Hearken Stars, and hearken Spheres
Hearken thou eternal Sky
I sing an infant's lullaby
A pretty Lullaby!
Listen, Listen, listen, listen
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten
And hear my lullaby?

...

('Tis the "witching time of night", John Keats)

Louise is off tonight to see Peter Wright’s The Nutcracker, and will fly home, no doubt, on a giant snowy goose. Car be damned! There remain far greater ways to travel. And the view promised: how could such be resisted? I, on other hand, have a night or two to wait until I go and take my seat in the stalls. I am excited, as you would expect, at the thrill forthcoming. Sweet anticipation lives up to the popular name, and is a cocoon I am happy to stay wrapped up in until then. A fuzzy cocoon like fairy floss in texture is what I imagine it would look if it could be seen. A wilderness of tasks remains in state undone about me (as alluded to earlier in the day on twitter). I will get to them by the by, and would have sooner, had I not been having too nice a time of it reacquainting self with scissors, paper and glue. Here, in this post, the fruits of my labour as I wait patiently my turn.

+ Playing Field in closer detail, one more time.