There's sorrow in the air but the earth pays no attention to the state of men's affairs. God laid down a blanket of sprightly green grass across her lap as sunlight rose from a winter nap. Now the earth shouts with golden flutes of forsythia and trumpeting daffodils as nimble young trees dance with white blossomed gems wrapped tightly around their necks. The meter of the breeze urges all to keep time as the days lengthen and melt into the sky, a melody the day sings at the dying of the light. ~Rae.
3 Comments
2 more comments...No posts
Lovely, Doc. Just lovely.