the British Royal Navy bombards the fort guarding Baltimore’s harbor with state-of-the-art artillery. The seige of Baltimore fails.
I vote early and wish I could take the smooth and quick process as a good omen. Apart from some too-good-to-be-true polls, good omens have been in short supply this year, as the pseudoconservative coalition of bigots and plutocrats bombards a wobbly electoral process with state-of-the-art ratcrap, propelled by dark money and deep resentments. The pseudoconservatives hope for another Congress controlled by enablers for the fascist buffoon in the White House.
I go online (well after the dawn’s early light) to see the results for races that I have been following. Mostly blue! Congress has been flipped! For now at least, our flag is still there.
Some blogs I follow have excellent photos of bees and butterflies visiting zinnias and other flowers. The pollinators where I live usually move too fast for me. (They seem to start each foraging trip with triple espressos.) I just admire the local zinnias and their visitors as I walk slowly past them, without taking photos. One day late in the 2026 zinnia season, my muse interrupted my walk when she whispered, “Pull your phone out.” I complied while replying, “No post without a poem.” She smirked and winked.
So far as I know, there is no species in the oak genus named after Henley’s famous poem. Maybe there should be one.
I took the photo described by the haiku with my phone right after mowing. That fruit was gone when I went out with my camera on the next day, but more were coming:
