The Owl, That Bird Of

Summer Is A Promissory Note Signed In June, Its Long Days Spent And Gone Before You Know It, And Due To Be Repaid Next January.

As I Stood And Watched The Mists Slowly Rising This Morning I Wondered What View Was More Beautiful Than This.

The Longer I Live And The More I Read, The More Certain I Become That The Real Poems About Spring Aren't Written On Paper. They Are Written In The Back Pasture And The Near Meadow, And They Are Issued In A New Revised Edition Every April.

Knowing Trees, I Understand The Meaning Of Patience. Knowing Grass, I Can Appreciate Persistence.

If You Would Know Strength And Patience, Welcome The Company Of Trees.