Easter flowers from my very favorite youngest sister.




Today is a day like any other: twenty four hours, a 
little sunshine, a little rain. 


Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going? 


For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees. 


And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, 
I don't even want to come in out of the rain. 


-Mary Oliver






I don't want to sell my life for money.
Words so perfect I could hardly breathe when I first read them.
Or as I lay in bed last night thinking about them.







 
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