Though ‘whelmed by overweening gale,
though tempest-tossed ‘neath snowy trail,
your day arrives as seconds chime,
for Spring must march to Father Time.
Though ‘whelmed by overweening gale,
though tempest-tossed ‘neath snowy trail,
your day arrives as seconds chime,
for Spring must march to Father Time.
Already spring thoughts are shining through! Is that a seat buried in snow?
Yep – a thoroughly-buried bench! It sure looks pretty – if not inviting…
Oh good, this one allowed me to breathe!
Oh, I know–I just have trouble with the patience-thing.
Uh yeah. Me, too.
I certainly hope so. It seems a long way away.
It sure does – but it hasn’t failed us yet, has it?
It makes the arrival all the sweeter for the anticipation!
Writing of spring while the radio talks wind chill. I like it.
Yay Spring! Thank you for giving us hope! God bless you! (we still don’t have snow where I am, just cold)