My first attempt at this Prompt from dVerse poets.com
The line I choose is from Robert Frost’s Birches: “They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.”
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White birch trees complimented the green of the Vermont landscape, much like the black and white Holsteins dot the low hills. Both are striking contrasting visions to the lush emerald hues surrounding them. With age and weather, “as the stir cracks and crazes their enamel” the smoother white bark curls and opens to reveal the dark inner self. This is truly aging with beauty.
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The Bag Lady 
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