Promenade

Stately, the ladies and the men, not all, but most. Like ships scattering with hidden and precious cargos to the sixteen points of the wind, they will turn into the ways of the sea, and they might not meet again. But for tonight, stately. Each one carries a history and a promise of destiny. Each one is young, but will someday be older, wiser, stronger, for good or for ill, for richer or poorer, with a spiritual heritage of some sort forever and ever.

And I feel like a retired sea-captain – one who occasionally takes his little boat out for a spin – who sees the proud sails billowing, the white wakes spuming with foam, and rejoices that the young sailors are so swift and strong and bright and beautiful. And that sea-captain wishes them all the best, and at the worst, at least that they shall be able to retire like him.