Twice I cleaned out my drive yesterday. I have made my shoulder sore. It was the shoulder that I jammed when I fell saving my daughter's cake. The only good thing about it was the snow was light and fluffy.
My niece posted she ad twelve inches of snow before four o'clock P. M. yesterday. I think we only had eight, but it was hard to tell with the drifting and blowing.
Friday is my next writer's group meeting. I am still enjoying it immensely and that is why I started my blog in the first place.
I used to say, "The only difference between an ordinary man and a great man, was his willingness to write his thoughts for others to judge." So I try to write.
It is hard for a bird to fly with a crippled wing.
It is hard for a horse to run with a broken hock.
It is hard for a bell with a crack in it to ring.
It is hard for a leaky boat to sail from the dock.
It is hard for a soul to sing with a broken heart.
It is hard for feet to dance when happiness has flown.
It is hard for a man to love when he will not start.
It is hard for folks to proceed when the way's unknown.
It's hard for folk to write when ideas will not flow.
It is hard for writers to express all of their thoughts.
It is hard for readers to learn all the writers know.
It is hard to keep thoughts straight when all is tied in knots.
It is not hard to share what you think and what you feel.
It is not difficult to put thoughts down on paper.
It's not hard if you attack it with passion and zeal.
It is not hard, thoughts not written vanish like vapor.