Monday, January 7, 2013

A few more stones

1/5 - End of every good day, we sweep the stable, hay and mud chased out the barn door, where at dusk we will forget not to walk through it, track it onto our neglected kitchen floors.

1/6 - In the gray, cool, dead-grass, damp-air, January meadow, one yellow flower whispers, "Bright things can grow here. Wait."

1 comment:

Granny Kate said...

That's what I love about dandelions.