Flowers Always Have It - Poise, Completion,

Forsythia Is Pure Joy. There Is Not An Ounce, Not A Glimmer Of Sadness Or Even Knowledge In Forsythia. Pure, Undiluted, Untouched Joy.

Why Is It That You Can Sometimes Feel The Reality Of People More Keenly Through A Letter Than Face To Face?

Eternally, Woman Spills Herself Away In Driblets To The Thirsty, Seldom Being Allowed The Time, The Quiet, The Peace, To Let The Pitcher Fill Up To The Brim.

Go For A Short Walk In A Soft Rain - Lovely - So Many Wild Flowers Startling Me Through The Woods And A Lawn Sprinkled With Dandelions, Like A Night With Stars. And Through It All The Sound Of Soft Rain Like The Sound Of Innumerable Earthworms Stirring In The Ground.

Perhaps Middle-age Is, Or Should Be, A Period Of Shedding Shells; The Shell Of Ambition, The Shell Of Material Accumulations And Possessions, The Shell Of The Ego.