I am visiting two of my sons in Tennessee. It is Saturday afternoon. Rather late. I apologize about writing so seldom. I should do this more. It is mid spring. Time for flowers, and new leaves on the trees. I forget ... never remember ... get too busy to share my thoughts here. Hopefully, I may visit here more often. And share. I wrote this poem about a scene like the one below. Black against a gray sky. Leafy branches that now are bare. But when the leaves appear, They will look like black lace Against a gray, rainy sky.