Wait no more, the moment has come for me to go forth and unshell my beauty, reach out to your soul and fill every void with lovely scent and beauty that's hard to come by. Closer now, open your heart and let me decorate it with petals of beauty.

The subtle softness gently enhances as I walked among the beauty of the blossoms, making small talk with people along the way. The blooms are not in peak, which means that they are full, yet that in itself pleases me, after all, if they are not in full bloom, they have far to go. The season of the cherry blossoms has been interrupted by the cool weather. No fear, it just bought me more time. Now that I have shown you're the Bradford Pear blossoms, perhaps a cherry blossom is needed.

Weaving whispered words between the spaces of my heart. Watching your beauty from afar, there is no hurry to say goodbye. Goodbye, my love, goodbye.

I seem to migrate towards the beauty of the day. The Washington Monument is in the background and this is my usual walk on any given day. I feel fortunate to have this at my disposal, and I will freely admit that I take advantage of that fact. There is no other place in the States like it.

I want to thank @tattoodjay for hosting the #WednesdayWalk challenge! Show me where you walked today, I want to see what you got to see and hear what you have to say. I hope you had a fabulous time and I think we should meet up here again next week! If you want to do the challenge, drop him a link on his #WednesdayWalk post so he can try to visit yours! Whatever your day looks like, it is worth a walk through it. You can't always have sunshine and rainbows, but, you can always have a #WednesdayWalk!

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

Lines Written in Early Sproing

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

William Wordworth