Where be ye going you Devon maid?

Where be ye going you Devon maid
And what have ye there i’ the Basket?
Ye tight little fairy–just fresh from the dairy
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it–
(Keats)

A teaser: More portraits of J in progress. Who could ever tire of that profile?

A pleasant afternoon at Blackstar Coffee, where sugar pots are tied with tags of poetry penned by the poet in residence.

And a sky full of golden orbs who keep a safe distance in their Web City.

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