When winter-time grows weary, I lift my eyes on high⠀ And see the black trees standing, stripped clear against the sky;⠀ ⠀ They stand there very silent, with the cold flushed sky behind,⠀ The little twigs flare beautiful and restful and kind;⠀ ⠀ Clear-cut
Saturday is great and all but I think Sunday is my soul mate ????
Have so much light that plants grow towards you ????
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