From their white, pink-and purple-lined blossoms, to its sweet perfume, I never met a Magnolia tree I didn’t like.
February is nearly over. I’m not sad to bid farewell to the shortest month of the year.
WHEN A MARRIAGE FAILS
Out of the mud the bluest flowers
open in the sun
without anger or regret; neither more or less than what it is,
alive again and free.