Summer approaches.
Spring offers a last reminder
of her temperament. A cold
wind blows across the Great Lake,
wafting through the lowlands,
bringing with it a last gasp of winter
breath. The skies are painted,
in tones of muted gray, and today
holds little promise but this:
tomorrow will be another day;
another chance to get it right.
Hold hope for tomorrow.
Walt
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We are never without hope. Nice work.
ReplyDeleteM.E.