My Step Father's brother was a famous Poet. He taught at Harvard and did a very nice book of poems about owls. A distant cousin of mine is Harry Crosby a great poet as well. I consider myself naturally talented in the coupling art... you Sir are no poet! ~stoney
"The Owl Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved; Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof. Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest, Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I. All of the night was quite barred out except An owl’s cry, a most melancholy cry Shaken out long and clear upon the hill, No merry note, nor cause of merriment, But one telling me plain what I escaped And others could not, that night, as in I went. And salted was my food, and my repose, Salted and sobered, too, by the bird’s voice Speaking for all who lay under the stars, Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice."
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You are gathering proof that you are right. I am gathering thoughts that rubs others mind. Thoughts are like breeze that penetrates with ease. Like a whisper of knowledge with double edge.