Beautiful girl, Mama, and Nana.
Chase butterflies.
Sip tea.
Blow bubbles.
Read stories at sunset.
Believe in make-believe.
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Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother. – Ann Taylor
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One little owl in an old oak tree
Fluffy and puffy as only owls can be
Blinking and winking with big round eyes
At the full bright moon that illuminates the sky.
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I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden.
Ruth Stout
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