Tuesday, April 18, 2017


No matter how long the winter, Spring is sure to follow. 

The lanes speak for themselves, 

The tenebrous shroud of winter is pierced by blackthorn blossom. 
Green seeps quietly into the thicket while yellow screeches from the horizon. 

I simply watch and wait, 
in wonder.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.