A Reminiscence of Wordsworth

‘…and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a sweet, inland murmur.’ You can’t help but notice how Nature always seems to find Its way. You watch as the Anaemic looking Taupe roots Score up through the Grooves in the cracked Pavement, then spread, branch out, Curl their furred, prickly bodies and … Continue reading A Reminiscence of Wordsworth