Spring is sneaking up on us.
Under the old, dry leaves,
From the cold, hard ground,
Out of the round, hidden bulbs,
Crocus will poke us.
Beware of lurking crocus
I write every day. Sometimes I even blog.
I write every day. Sometimes I even blog.
Spring is sneaking up on us.
Under the old, dry leaves,
From the cold, hard ground,
Out of the round, hidden bulbs,
Crocus will poke us.
Writing Every Day 