Dusk at Haxey Hood. Curious to see a sky so deep and so blue that it blows the mind's eye for four days before you mind which landlord secured the prize, nevermind who smoked the fool.
See the moon above: how it does follow even hope gone hollow: reflecting light from that star round the bend, the future's past. Below all the revelers carouse. But the moon wants to know you by way of wanting you to know:
By happenstance the corner table becomes a carousel when you wear the hood. & try to wear that hood we all must because because: because epiphanies rarely occur (if at all, much less on a tenable schedule) without breaking a pane or three.
Mind your head above all else.