Reading through old poems... this will always be a favorite, and just feels perfect for today's stormy-looking weather. (I know I've posted it here before.)

Saturday, December 11, 2010
Building Forests

The danger of a little girl like me, who's very name is Hope, is she can't help but build forests with whatever seeds she finds to sow. Oh fell the trees. And while her tears fall at dusk, let them feed those seeds no more. Tell her some trees grow for centuries and can't be moved by a passing breeze. They were planted long before you Hope, but Hope is carved at their feet, and whispered by their leaves.

PS, I wrote something new today, if you know the secret password. ;)