Days
Some days my thoughts are just cocoons- all cold,
and dull, and blind,
They hang from dripping branches in the grey woods
of my mind;
and other days they drift and shine- such free
and flying things!
I find the gold-dust in my hair, left by their
brushing wings.
a poem by Karle Wilson Baker
painting : phoebe moore
Copyright:
Karle Wilson Baker
from Blue Smoke, by Karle Wilson Baker
taken from Language And How To Use It Book 4; by Scott, Foresman and Company, Glenview, Illinois
Copyright © 1969, 1973 by by Scott, Foresman and Company
All Rights Reserved.
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