As the spring snow falls prettily outside the window,
My thoughts fly away like a bird:
I’m summer dreaming.
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The aria of light returning
Is beautiful music indeed.
The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun.
~John Greenleaf Whittier
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The last day of November was gloriously cold:
A frosted universe presented itself —
Frosty flowers that looked like stars floating in the cosmos;
Small ice crystals in the shape of
Trees on the postbox lock;
A storm passed through
And left frozen waves in its wake;
A bird hiding out in the icy reeds
Sang a morning song;
And yes, even a rubbish bin
Transformed into something greater than itself
In the frosted sun.
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When the light is right
And lies in golden ribbons on the water,
The ordinary (even if just the legs of a duck)
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I caught this bird basking on the golden branches of a tree and it struck me
How large the bird was, and how slender and fragile the branches.
Sometimes, life feels like that: the heavy weight of a burden
Sitting on the fragile tree of life.
You don’t think you can support the weight. But you do.
Because just like that lovely tree, we are stronger than we realize.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all.
— Emily Dickinson
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