No more, we, along the banks of the river meet; the memory in my heart lies sweet.

On leaves in a New England autumn: As a mother with her children, Nature let them play all day.

Meadowlark trills echoing far...Stormclouds gather, Spring's not far.

The meeting amounted to a lesson in masochism by way of intolerant political correctness in all its extremes.

Nice thread, Sham.

kat