Every time I see fern frost I can't help but imagine Robert Frost: All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What kept him from remembering what it was That brought him to that creaking room was age. So, it is Thursday and the weather lends itself to quiet contemplation in the morning. Like how disappointing the Blood Moon was a bust, what with clouds and rain. On the upside it was just before dawn so I could stay in bed cozy and warm. It's Thursday and we walk. What inspired you today.