Winter is a time of promise,,,

 

My girl Klara


"Out of the bosom of the Air, 
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 
Over the woodlands brown and bare, 
Over the harvest-fields forsaken, 
Silent, and soft, and slow 
Descends the snow."
-  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Snowflakes 


















































Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.

It's all a farce, – these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o'er field and dell, Because the year is dying....