360*tree

take my hand and climb with me…

three hundred and fifty four degrees: ‘you’ll be dreaming…’

Hold On ~ Róisín O

three hundred and fifty four

the last vestige

of winter

sinks

~

talon

(  deep  )

in tender shoots

~

of spring

~

burgeoning

hope

like blossom

~

storms

~

passing

to conjure

~

(  r a i n b o w s  )

*

A small spark can ignite the light…

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This entry was posted on September 19, 2013 by in Winter and tagged , , , , , , , .

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