Rough winds do shake

… the darling buds of May.

Sonnet 18 is easily the one of the most recognizable Shakespearean sonnets. And it danced through my head as I walked the dog in the neighborhood today.

May has been exceptionally windy, and the little dog stopped to stand faced into the blow from the bay, eyes shut tight. I asked if she wanted to turn around. One eye peeked open. Then the other. The sky was too blue and the flowers too vibrant to return home. There was much to see. She stepped quickly and we forged on.

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