Lovers!  A splendiferious  thing. But oh the slings and arrows it does attract it if the boundaries are stretched or broken.  Society's bounds that is.  I have the pleasure of knowing a couple whose lovely loverliness has breached a bound or two.  I'll just call them Wayne and Becky.  Pure contentment seems to blossom in the very air surrounding them.  They garden. They watch sunsets. They feed birds and fish.  They cook up delicious storms of altogether delectable meals.  Snugglers!  Ah but bounds these unrepentent handholders have broken according to the mean-spirited lady shooting daggers from across the restaurant's tabletops.   Gender? Race?  Age?  Religion? What What?  Mismatched shoes? Ah age. And that, it seems, has given the go-ahead to dagger-shooters.

But they care not, these birdsLoving.  One day,and probably not too far away, one of our handholders will probably march right up to dagger-shooter and ask exactly what the problem is.  May not be a lovely day for the dagger-shooter but so it goes.

Love always seems to be in short supply as far as I can see.  Precious thing that it is I think wherever and with whomever is beside the point.  Love doesn't care.  Why should we?

I saw some photographs of the first gay marriages in NY and cried.  One in particular just broke my heart.  The bride pushed the bride to the altar in a wheelchair.  They were very old ladies.  I think of the many many years they had been together.  What daggers they faced.  And not only from strangers.  I think of  the love that kept them together, that gave them the strength to endure society's rot.  And finally, to have a sweet ceremony acknowledging their very own happily-ever-after.  I'll ring a bell for you, ancient lovely ladies.  I'll light a candle.