Oh, the joy that abounds in the myriad of perfumes of our poetic and inner secrecy. The open garden - what joy it is; the breeze that sends into our midst the scent of new words - silken in their meaning, innate in their love, mysterious in their origin and pure in their giving.
Are we blessed?
Are we blessed!
©Anthony W. Pahl
16 April 2001
Page created: Friday, 07 June 2002
This page was last updated on:
Friday, 09 May 2008
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