poem: DAYS

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.