Every day, a photograph, a poem.
I could not resist one more picture and poem about the bluebells I wait for each spring– they pop up just to the left of the foot bridge headed towards the park. I’m sure there will be more as the grey dirt turns green and blue.
Remember the daySheri Edwards
they first peeked through to the sun;
bluebells are sprouting.
Poetry / Photography
Note: I numbered my March 15, 2021 blog posts incorrectly. They should be day 367 of Covid Stay Home Stay Safe.
Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts/Media Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker~~
Art from the Heart