Chickadee shadows
flit across the white wall by
grey branches shatteredA small motor whir
hopping from small twig to twig
chickadee calling.The cold doesn’t stop
the call of the chickadees
nor my listening.
Mary Beth Frezon, January 15, 2012
Seeking?
The Quote Box
The body of B Franklin, printer, like the cover of an old book, its contents worn out and stript of its lettering and guilding lies here, food for worms but the work shall not be lost for it will, as he believes, appear once more in a new and more elegant edition, corrected and improved by the author. Franklin’s epitaph written by himself 8–31–1776
— Benjamin FranklinThe Cat Cam
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My you have a way with this.