Now, of my threescore years and ten,
A. E. Housman
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
As Louie and I took our gratitude walk this morning, I marveled at the jonquils, tulips, flowering trees and the warmth of 55 degrees. I thought, “Loveliest of trees, the cherry now…” in Housman’s poem and my heart was warmed that I’d been blessed with four score springs and two!
Several friends are very ill. If I could give them anything, I’d gladly share my wellbeing.
Knitting, writing and other joys 