Archive for bucolic
Winter is hard, my dears. Waiting is agony. Until you apprehend the story. The beauty of spring and summer in the northern climes depends on time ticking ever so slowly. Soon enough, the first bud, the first bee, the first peeper in the thawing pond. If not for these endless days we’d lose our wonder at what is coming…You know what is coming…how spring sashays and summer swaggers…even now, in the stillness, you know it well. XO, V
“Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.”
― Jack Kerouac
Well, Jack, I hate to break it to you but these days, nowadays, roundabout here, people are using their phone to create poetry. And what fun it is on the road Jack! Oh, and can we amend that to, “don’t use your phone to call anyone, use it for poetry”?
If you’d like to have this image on your wall…