When my day has not gone according to plan, I reach for the words of other, better writers.  I leave you with this work by an exquisite poet, with a fond glance backward and my best wishes for a good night to you all.

“She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways”, by William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

My Aunt Dode on the left and my mother, Lucy, on the right. “Dode” was our name for my mother’s sister Joyce.