Thursday, February 16, 2012

Woodland Friends: Flowers, Bees, Monkeys







The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
receive me cordially.


The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, they silver mists ?
Wherefore, O summer's day ?

(#
poem shared from: Emily Dickinson
)

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