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I woke up this morning with the name Edna St. Vincent Millay rolling around in my head, in a sing-song repetitive way. Edna St. Vincent Millay, hey! Edna St. Vincent Millay, hey! Edna St. Vincent Millay!
Why?
I have no earthly idea.
I have some vague recollections from middle school that she was a poet. Of what, I could not have told you. So a search yielded a short biography. A further search reacquainted me with some of her poems, which you can find here.
I find much of her work to be rather dark; but I suppose some of the most introspective poems often examine some of the more somber topics of life, such as loss and death. I had thought to share one of “Vincent’s” poems (for that is apparently what her friends called her), but I just could not find one that felt right, so I leave it up to you, dear readers, to visit the link above if you wish to find out more about her and her body of work. Or let Edna read to you herself.

As for me, her name is no longer sing-songing itself in my brain, so hopefully whatever it was that I was supposed to find out is done!
How about some gratuitous flower pictures from my patio petunias to liven this post up a bit?
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There is still so much about the human mind that we do not know. I don’t know about you, but my mind seems to never stop thinking, dreaming and creating. What did you wake up thinking about this morning?

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