the beginning
of the poem.
(…and may it always
remain that way) .x
the world looks back at me,
What do I see?
The wind whispering through
branches of trees,
a solitary bird of prey,
who contemplates.
What does he see?
A flutter of leaves,
a scampering mouse
his breakfast soon to be.
#dew
the world looks back at me,
What do I see?
The wind whispering through
branches of trees,
a solitary bird of prey,
who contemplates.
What does he see?
A flutter of leaves,
a scampering mouse
his breakfast soon to be.
#dew
—love
E. E. Cummings
—love
E. E. Cummings
in the plants and trees
there is magic when
you slow down
and just breathe.
#plantmagic #magic #breathe #poetry
in the plants and trees
there is magic when
you slow down
and just breathe.
#plantmagic #magic #breathe #poetry
Slips through the window,
Midnight brews its cup.
~
Slips through the window,
Midnight brews its cup.
~
That led me to you
A sleepless night
When I began to write
A sequence of events
Randomly fell into place
Was it destiny
Was it fate
When our paths crossed
Whatever the case
I thank the universe
In some small way
Every day
That led me to you
A sleepless night
When I began to write
A sequence of events
Randomly fell into place
Was it destiny
Was it fate
When our paths crossed
Whatever the case
I thank the universe
In some small way
Every day
Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath
the beginning
of the poem.
(…and may it always
remain that way) .x
the beginning
of the poem.
(…and may it always
remain that way) .x