There are times when only poetry will do to satisfy the inner hunger and hurt that the world throws your way.  Today I remember Yeats;

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

 

Thank you Yeats,

To those who hurt today, and for those who know from bursting through the clouds in an aeroplane, the sun is there beyond the clouds.

Best wishes, Denny Bradbury