By: James G. Piatt Spring has arrived, it’s no longer cold, The bright sun melted winter’s icy robe. Rills now flow softly in chasms down the hill, Dappled bullfrogs’ are croaking shrill: The bright sun creates colors to behold, I…
By: James G. Piatt Spring has arrived, it’s no longer cold, The bright sun melted winter’s icy robe. Rills now flow softly in chasms down the hill, Dappled bullfrogs’ are croaking shrill: The bright sun creates colors to behold, I…