Late winter warm spell,
tree frogs in love calling out
NOTES: Unseasonably warm weather this weekend in the Pacific Northwest. When I went to the mailbox I heard the tree frogs for the first time this year. They are awake and most certainly in love.
I love poetry. But I'm picky.
No one pays me to read and write poems. It's more of a labor of love. I guess that puts me in good company. This is a project to discover why some poems strike you deep, deep down, while others leave you cold. I've got some ideas, and I'm eager to learn. I'll show you some of mine. Maybe we'll learn something new.
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