More Idle Thoughts on Autumn
My favorite time of year is here.
The wind, picking up,
whistles thru creaky old windows;
shadows of tree limbs dance on the floor,
steam from the kettle rises then magically disappears.
To sleep, to dream, to explore time,
amid pillows and quilts sipping sweet hot tea.
~w
The wind, picking up,
whistles thru creaky old windows;
shadows of tree limbs dance on the floor,
steam from the kettle rises then magically disappears.
To sleep, to dream, to explore time,
amid pillows and quilts sipping sweet hot tea.
~w