Some days my thoughts are just cocoons- all cold, and dull and blind, <br />They hang from dripping branches in the grey woods of my mind; <br /> <br />And other days they drift and shine - such free and flying things! <br />I find the gold-dust in my hair, left by their brushing wings.<br /><br />Karle Wilson Baker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/days-3/
