To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June (Jean-Paul Sartre).

 

My girl Norma:

"The trees down the boulevard stand naked in thought,

Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught

In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront

Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt."

-  D. H. Lawrence, Winter in the Boulevard, 1916  

 Sunday prayer