Washing Down The flowers hang on each other in early morning, it is cold and damp. Some of them jump down into a puddle on the ground. The robins still have their work to do, so they fly back-and-forth between the low branches and the roots to pick up some small things.
Poem #197
Poem #197
Poem #197
Washing Down The flowers hang on each other in early morning, it is cold and damp. Some of them jump down into a puddle on the ground. The robins still have their work to do, so they fly back-and-forth between the low branches and the roots to pick up some small things.