Picture of one type of buckeye. Native Americans say carrying a buckeye seed in your pocket brings good luck. They are poisonous.
I wandered lone as I did seek Through silent woods and rustling leaves Down the hill to the flowing creek Away from life's stress causing heaves There I saw a white lovely swan By magic there appeared a fawn As the slow running water splashed Then filled a deeper hole for fish A place to dream and keep my cached Where those large fish could jump and whish A place to write some poetry down Where depressing thoughts could sink and drown Where microscopic details thrived Those threatened plants grow high and wide In this place they truly survive This past spring trillium I spied A host of buckeye 'pon the hill And wild azaleas gave me thrills Back up the winding trail to home Spirit filled, soul rested and still No need to drift; physically roam Just let my thoughts of this day fill In the kitchen in drudgery's grip From my cup of memories sip From my thoughts about the work "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud" by William Wordsworth Repost of this one. For Brian
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Picture of one type of buckeye. Native Americans say carrying a buckeye seed in your pocket brings good luck. They are poisonous.