First, a rec: The House of Your Heart is Lit From Within, a gorgeous Prydain NYR fic that thistlerose unknowingly wrote for one of my Boy's yuletide prompts.

Second, I just have to register my nebulous and yet ongoing squee over DreamWidth. This is going to be sooo cool homg. (and oh my god do I ever want one of those codes!)

Third, a poem in honor of the cruellest month, in hopes that it will not be so for me:

Song Of A Second April
Edna St. Vincent Millay

April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
Go up the hillside in the sun,
Pensively,—only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.