Tags
bliss, faith, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, southern, spirit, truth, value
failing now
the chilly grip
of cold
the winter fingers
are warmed to life
by memories of spring
a blushing pink
umbrella
is refuge for the worn
while orchards wait
the hum of honeybees
nature wills
the letting go
with promises of time
as black
the berry wakes
beside the thorn
. . .
Author’s Note: The telling of Spring is everywhere this week. Just yesterday I pulled to the roadside and counted 24 deer in the field near my house. Sunlight sits in pools where ice has only recently melted, as babies remember the way back to places they’ve never been. *sigh*
. . .
tornadoday 
Reblogged this on hellterskelter.
thank you, my friend
beautiful!
Thank you, Cindy. Somehow I knew this was a place you’d recognize……. ❤
“as babies remember the way back to places they’ve never been. ”
I really like this thought, Bobbie. It’s something that only a truly gentle mind could raise from the mountains of words that are piled before us. …xo
me
Thank you, Paul. It was one of my favorite lines………as I was reminded of geese who fly thousands of miles without an understanding of where they are going………a home they’ve not yet forgotten, not yet remembered back into………. One of my favorite authors refers to that as ‘seeing in the dark’………knowing because we know, feeling because we feel……… I like that idea.
❤ always and my heart is with you watching the deer with their fawns xXx
They have been out in abundance this year, dear Jane. I keep my camera in the passenger seat at all times………. They watch and I watch back! ❤ Thank you for coming along…… I love your company, as do they!