#AYearForArt #ArtMatters #LoveArt #Photography #poetry
Where beesom weed—that high wind leaves
Blossoms and blooms above the eaves
The old cow-crib is mossed and green
As if it just had painted been
The ramping kecks in orchard gaps
Shake like green neighbours in white caps
On which the snail will climb and dwell
For three weeks in its painted shell
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