These bright afternoon hours, strong winds sigh
the towering pines, singing shining
furls of bristling torn green silk.
Down worn dark hollows, the sparkling creek flows. 86 more words
On the crest of spring
Newness, like wild flowers grows
Dawning sun-thawed smiles
I’ve been meaning to write a few posts about my Northwestern road trip a few weeks ago (we went all the way to Canada!!!), but have taken a pause as so many things have come up recently that I am currently writing this from Los Angeles, where I have come for a visit. 1,222 more words