Pearlovski in the late-winter’s sun creating a cobweb of light
If Spring comes, can Winter be far behind?*
Original quote – “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” – Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West Wind

Pearlovski in the late-winter’s sun creating a cobweb of light
If Spring comes, can Winter be far behind?*
Original quote – “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” – Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ode to the West Wind

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
– W.B. Yeats
Art – Eilif Peterssen

“Melancholy were the sounds on a winter’s night.”
― Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room
Forge on a Winter’s Night by Svend Svendson (Norwegian/American, 1864-1945)

“The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass
Answer’d the lovely maid and said: “I am a watry weed,
And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales;
So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head;
Yet I am visited from heaven, and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his hand,
Saying: ‘Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower,”
― William Blake, The Book of Thel, and the Marriage of Heaven and Hell
Art – Kelly Louise Judd

Happy February Everyone!
February from Eugène Samuel Grasset‘s La Belle Jardinière calendar, 1896

Pirating love
is hunting the fields
in early May dreams
for fireflies and roses alike
to keep them barred
in jars and bottles with light
until your heart
inflames to the touch
and burns
from drinking shades of the evening
and hues of the stars
only to spark
in the dark
as source of delight
in torn summer nights…
© Iulia Halatz
Art by Andrea Kowch.

“O, to be sure, we laugh less and play less and wear uncomfortable disguises like adults, but beneath the costume is the child we always are, whose needs are simple, whose daily life is still best described by fairy tales.”
― Leo Rosten
Art by Nadezhda Illarionova.

He couldn’t be captured in a phrase
Or one hundred…
He was like no one,
He was like a foreign country
That you travelled through
Eerie landscapes and glistening lakes
Towards horizons
Camouflaged in mists
Precluding
Happiness
once felt
And dreamed about.
He was like a giant umbrella
In bright colors
Protective of winds and shadows
Bandaging unseen wounds
In tenderness and
Love.
Also featured at Medium.com/Blue Insights
Art – Harald Sohlberg

Reposting an old poem written in 2015
Aftermath
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew the path;
With the falling of the snow,
With the cawing of the crow,
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowen mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom.
Art – Samuel Palmer, Harvest Moon, The Weald, Kent, 1833

Also featured at Quora.com.