The afternoon grew darkening from the west; A hush fell on the air, and in the trees; The huddled birds pronounced their prophecies; The flowers bent their heads as if to rest Now that the tide of the sun's golden seas In one long wave swept off the earth's wide breast. Up sprung deft shadowy patterns by degrees, And nature's face her soul made manifest. - William Stanley Braithwaite

“So you want me to clean up your mess. Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Well, maybe this day won’t be a total waste.”