This Easter lily was in the window at church that morning.
There's something nestled in the budding lilac bush. Can you see it?
Now, can you see the tiny feather?
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Back home again in Indiana, And it seems that I can see The gleaming candlelight still shining bright Thru the sycamores for me, The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance From the fields I used to roam, When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash, Then I long for my Indiana home.
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I've added the comment box back in. It's nice to hear from others, so feel free to drop me a line. I'll try to get all comments moderated in a timely fashion. Thanks for reading.