It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
------------ Kenneth Grahame
Friday, April 25, 2008
Two Short Poems
The crows tell us the truth all day feather for feather, caw by caw; but they don't care if we listen.
New leaves and the taste of you and the sticky buds of the alders; in Spring we lick our fingers.