Thank you. :)

Mother Nature likes to tease us Oregonians with a few dry days here and there this time of year. "See that?" she taunts us. "That's what you can't have! Bwahahahahaha!!" She's kind of mean, really.

Ahh, but she redeems herself in the spring when the blossoms are on the trees, the sky turns a crystal blue and she shouts an exultant "woo-hoo".

You always have the most poetic way of looking at things. It's rather awesome.

[blushes] Shhh, don't tell anyone, but poetry is one of my other creative outlets...

The Promise

The last leaves of summer,
stained a brilliant yellow
by November's icy breath,
flutter helplessly to the ground
like a beautiful last song escaping
the lips of the wounded season.

We must endure the cold, dark spell
until the soft pink petals
of spring's blossoms cascade
in a similar path of gravity
and the song played out against the blue sky
is full of the promise of a new beginning.

11/23/03

I love it. It's truly beautiful, Skip. Thank you for sharing it with me... I really appreciate it.