brown is everywhere. many different shades. lines everywhere.
why can’t these early spring colors match the sounds of the birds?
Robert, this hue is hard to attain. I am impatient. I want that gold now.
I see a graveyard of brown and lines, however every once in a while a sprout of life appears. There is hope.
small soft buds have appeared on the outstretched arms of the trees. that makes me smile.
I cannot wait. It seems eternal.