For this final blog of the now diminished, vanishing year, may I share with you the reflections of a young British poet and horticulturalist, Philip Britts (1917-1949). His pensive brooding is the sort of ruminating that does our souls good on the spiritual eve of yet another journey around the sun.

Read more at the source: "The Piercing White Light"

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from The Fourth Watch.