The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn:
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!
We hiked in the grasslands this weekend. We went from bare to mega snow. We could hear the lark but not see him. Spring will be soon.
Amazed With Mystery 