Facebook Posts – Plymouth Unitarians

Plymouth Unitarian Church is at Plymouth Unitarian Church.

13 hours ago

#thursdayvibes 💙 ... See MoreSee Less

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Plymouth Unitarian Church is at Plymouth Unitarian Church.

1 day ago

🩵 ... See MoreSee Less

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Plymouth Unitarian Church is at Plymouth Unitarian Church.

1 day ago

The previous four posts were all from Coastal Connections held this morning.Our next meetup will be on Wednesday 10th June at 10:00 via Zoom. It will be facilitated by Lesley.See you in two weeks!! ... See MoreSee Less

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Plymouth Unitarian Church

1 day ago

Closing words from the congregation of First Unitarian Universalist Society of Exeter (USA) Go in peace.Speak truth.Give thanks each day.Respect the earth, and all creatures, for they are alive like you.Care for your body. It is a wondrous gift.Live simply.Be of service. Be guided by your faith and not your fear.Go lightly on your way. Walk in a sacred manner.❤️ ... See MoreSee Less

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Plymouth Unitarian Church is at Plymouth Unitarian Church.

1 day ago

To The Sea by Philip Larkin To step over the low wall that dividesRoad from concrete walk above the shoreBrings sharply back something known long before –The miniature gaiety of seasides.Everything crowds under the low horizon:Steep beach, blue water, towels, red bathing caps,The small hushed waves’ repeated fresh collapseUp the warm yellow sand, and further offA white steamer stuck in the afternoon – Still going on, all of it, still going on!To lie, eat, sleep in hearing of the surf(Ears to transistors, that sound tame enoughUnder the sky), or gently up and downLead the uncertain children, frilled in whiteAnd grasping at enormous air, or wheelThe rigid old along for them to feelA final summer, plainly still occursAs half an annual pleasure, half a rite, As when, happy at being on my own,I searched the sand for Famous Cricketers,Or, farther back, my parents, listenersTo the same seaside quack, first became known.Strange to it now, I watch the cloudless scene:The same clear water over smoothed pebblesThe distant bathers’ weak protesting treblesDown at its edge, and then the cheap cigars,The chocolate-papers, tea-leaves, and, between The rocks, the rusting soup-tins, till the firstFew families start the trek back to the cars.The white steamer has gone. Like breathed-on glassThe sunlight has turned milky. If the worstOf flawless weather is our falling short,It may be that through habit these do best,Coming to water clumsily undressedYearly; teaching their children by a sortOf clowning; helping the old, too, as they ought. ... See MoreSee Less

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