- Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
- Man never Is, but always To be blest:
- The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
- Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Spring is a time of inspiration for me. Every seed that is planted, every flower that blooms is potential for inspiring thoughts and feelings. Sure, folks who know me have commented on how I seem to live in a state of inspiration. But spring is inspiration renewal time.
Winter's introspection is tempered with spring growth.
It would be so easy for me to go deeply within and never come out...
Growth sometimes needs outward expression inorder to flourish.
Let decay bring on new creations!
Beauty spark revelation!
Then there is the just plain yumminess of spring!!!
Yesterday's Blog inspired a poem from one of my reader~friends...
Betsy Headley of Belfast, Maine
Onions
What I love about onions
is the way their tendrils
wiggle in every direction
untamed, expressive
catching bits of sunlight
like tiny solar panels
growing with abandon
spreading across rows
of tilled burnt umber
What I love about onions
is the way their tendrils
wiggle in every direction
untamed, expressive
catching bits of sunlight
like tiny solar panels
growing with abandon
spreading across rows
of tilled burnt umber
smelling of gardens past
and your broad hands
skin roughened from planting
while underground globes
swell in thin white layers
pushing outward
each fruit of your labors
an offering from the earth.
skin roughened from planting
while underground globes
swell in thin white layers
pushing outward
each fruit of your labors
an offering from the earth.
THANK-YOU BETSY!
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