Rupert Brooke

I found this lovely old poem in a book given to me by Adam years ago. Inside the cover of the book is inscribed: To Mommy, From Adam, Christmas 1987.

I have loved this book, Stillmeadow Daybook by Gladys Taber all these years. This afternoon through slight sprinkles of dawdling spring, I pulled this book off the shelf. Ahh, sweet spring, taking your time, but patience is a virtue for you and for me.

"All things are written in the mind.

There the sure hills have station;

And the wind blows in that placeless air.

And there the white and golden birds go flying;

And the stars wheel and shine; and the woods are fair."

Rupert Brooke

The photos were taken in my garden as the winter winds are finally giving way to the wedding march of spring.