Sunday, May 18, 2014
Sunday Morning Peace
To Everything There is a New Season . . .
New -Turned Soil
The smell of new-turned garden soil
Is in the air. With patient toil
The musk of earth is freed
From Winter's cell . . .
Each shovelful is like an urn
Diffusing redolent odor;
A freshness comes with each upturn
Of living earth . . .
A scent a rose may not escel.
In Case Anyone is Wondering What's Going on with few posts lately-- I'm taking a short hiatus. Deciding where I want to...
Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day. Ever hear that ditty when you were a child? It rained yesterday, and I was kind of look...
If you know me at all, you know I LOVE mysteries and suspense (with a touch of humor and romance!). So it is with real pleasure that I welco...
"I can write a book." "I have an idea. Can you use it in a book?" "Anyone can write a book." Really? Wha...