The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Every morningthe worldis created.Under the orange sticks of the sunthe heapedashes of the nightturn into leaves again and fasten themselves to the high branchesand the ponds appearlike black clothon which are painted islands of summer lilies.If it is your natureto…
1.Don’t bother me.I’ve justbeen born. 2.The butterfly’s loping flightcarries it through the country of the leavesdelicately, and well enough to get itwhere it wants to go, wherever that is, stoppinghere and there to fuzzle the damp throatsof flowers and the…
A blue preacherflew toward the swamp,in slow motion. On the leafy banks,an old Chinese poet,hunched in the white gown of his wings, was waiting.The waterwas the kind of dark silk that has silver linesshot through itwhen it is touched by…
I’d seentheir hoofprints in the deepneedles and knewthey ended the long night under the pines, walkinglike two muteand beautiful women towardthe deeper woods, so I got up in the dark andwent there. They cameslowly down the hilland looked at me…
cries for three days, in the gray mist.cries for the north it hopes it can find. plunges, and comes up with a slapping pickerel.blinks its red eye. cries again. you come every afternoon, and wait to hear it.you sit a…
Now I see it—it nudges with its bulldog headthe slippery stems of the lilies, making them tremble;and now it noses along in the wake of the little brown teal who is leading her soft childrenfrom one side of the pond…
Across the wide waters something comes floating—a slim and delicateship, filled with white flowers— and it moves on its miraculous musclesas though time didn’t exist, as though bringing such gifts to the dry shore was a happinessalmost beyond bearing. And…
The kingfisher rises out of the black wavelike a blue flower, in his beakhe carries a silver leaf. I think this isthe prettiest world—so long as you don’t minda little dying, how could there be a day in your whole…
Once I looked inside the darkness of a shell folded like a pastry, and there was a fancy face—or almost a face— it turned away and frisked up its brawny forearms so quicklyagainst the light and my looking in I…
In Singapore, in the airport,a darkness was ripped from my eyes.In the women’s restroom, one compartment stood open.A woman knelt there, washing something in the white bowl.Disgust argued in my stomachand I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.A poem…