Courage is not the towering oak that sees storms come and go;
it is the fragile blossom that opens in the snow.
Alice M. Swaim
Last night we had a snow storm.
This morning it took hot coffee and warm mittens to get me out the door at 7:00 a.m.
As silent bundles of both men and women traipsed past me through the snow I envisioned fragile blossoms.
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1 comment:
I have a hard time imagining fragile blossoms when I look out at the snow and ice!
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