Daniel Ramirez, Honolulu, Hawaii via Wikimedia commons ‘I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!’ W.B. Yeats ocean sunrise Your hand in mine as we watch the surf crash in our moment together fleeting as a gull’s cry for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-six

 By Underwood & Underwood — Publisher [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons   ‘And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout.’—W.B. Yeats   flying white moths another starry night without that wandering girl who caught me when…