We all went down to the sea to play one day.
It was incredibly sunny (for March, at least), and the horizon dissolved into a haze:
For someone with three degrees in English Literature, I’m surprisingly terrible at analysing poetry. I’m never sure if I’m being dense, facile or missing the point entirely. This does seem to fit the current situation, though:
whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
“maggie and milly and molly and may”
e. e. cummings