Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Christmas Cookies in Blue



Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Happy Father's Day!



Be kind to thy father,
for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?
He caught the first accents that
fell from thy tongue,
And joined in thy innocent glee.


Author Unknown

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It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain, —
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem, —
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, —
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

~Emily Dickinson