goodness. i was just beginning to get over how beautiful the last post was. (nevermind, actually. i will never be over it.)
the black tulips, every inch of green, the red doors, the air, the woodpile, the chairs; each branch and all the leaves (every one of them) . . . you remind us that it is the best poetry we will ever know
Spring, my favorite season.
bello! and grazie for your commentary on I have been here sometimes.
ReplyDeletecharming.
ReplyDeleteisn't it blissful?
ReplyDeleteyour garden and house look far more beautiful then mine here in the States, though!
goodness. i was just beginning to get over how beautiful the last post was. (nevermind, actually. i will never be over it.)
ReplyDeletethe black tulips, every inch of green, the red doors, the air, the woodpile, the chairs; each branch and all the leaves (every one of them) . . . you remind us that it is the best poetry we will ever know
Beautiful. Where's it @?
ReplyDelete