Birch woods spring, Delicate stuttering, Diaphanous muttering, of sweetly invisible blooms. Walking softly, Someone calling my name. A hush ascends to listening. Silvery streams beneath us, whispering promises as they wake. Teilen mit:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related