Winds roar from the west, Through branch’s rosy blossoms. Sand gnaws at the skin.
Winds roar from the west, Through branch’s rosy blossoms. Sand gnaws at the skin.
Winds gale through the canyon. Rolling hills of limestone scrub. Endless horizon.
Spring wind swirling blooms, Last chill borne upon the breeze. Dogs walk on the road.
Spring has come to the Retreat, with all of it’s glorious wind and night/day temperature changes. Fortunately, none of this stops the caretakers from trimming trees, placing plants back outside and cleaning the outside like busy bees. The spider plants…
Windblown, flags flapping- Leaves circle from root to crown. Good humor rings loud.