I was having the flu for the first time in decades when I put this page up originally, so I was feeling too icky to look back for the last time we'd seen one of Kestrel's poems. Now, though, I can say that he last let loose in verse on back on page 469 about a month and a half ago.

     This is one of his pseudo-sonnets, in case anyone's keeping track of these things--in the form of a sonnet, it's written in a sort of anapestic tetrameter catalectic instead of the usual iambic pentameter--and, well, it seems to be about entropy, mostly.