A Poem By Johanna // 2/1/2009

When upon an evening late
I see the icy weather fey,
Striving still to penetrate
The warmth of my abode.

Like the mighty Iron Horse
Roaring down the track,
The wind screams 'round the corners,
To pierce each niche and crack.

Yet though the rain does not abate
There lies a pleasant feeling.
For wind and rain are in the cold,
While I am by the fire, reading.



I like it........

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early; he arrives presicely when he means to." Gandalf

The Brit | Thu, 02/05/2009


This poem makes me think of a hobbit reading by his fireplace in a hobbit-hole. Or perhaps writing his memoirs...

James | Tue, 05/05/2009

"The idea that we should approach science without a philosophy is itself a philosophy... and a bad one, because it is self-refuting." -- Dr. Jason Lisle


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