The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Along the coastal waters, signals runIn waves of caution and anxiety.We’ll try the catboat out another day.So Danny stands in sea-grass by the porchTo watch a heeling dinghy, lone on grey,Grapple with moods of wind that take the bay. One…
No: this, my love, is neither you nor I.This is the beast or angel, changing form,The will that we are scourged and nourished by. The golden fangs, the tall seraphic sword,Alike unsheathed, await the midnight cry,Blazon their answer to the…
Why else but to forestall this hour, I stayedOut of the noonday sun, kept from the rain,Swam only in familiar depths, and playedNo hand where caution signaled to refrain? For fourteen friends I walked behind the bier;A score of cousins…
This handless clock stares blindly from its tower,Refusing to acknowledge any hour.But what can one clock do to stop the gameWhen others go on striking just the same?Whatever mite of truth the gesture held,Time may be silenced but will not…
They say the ground precisely sweptNo longer feeds with rich decayThe roots enormous in their ageThat long and deep beneath have slept. So the great spire is overthrown,And sharp saws have gone hurtling throughThe rings that three slow centuries wore;The…
We eat this body and remain ourselves.We drink this liquor, tasting wine, not blood.Among these triple icons, rites of seven,We know the feast to be of earth, not heaven:Here man is wounded, yet we speak of God.More than the Nazarene…
“Yonder,” they told him, “things are not the same.”He found it understated when he came.His tongue, in hopes to find itself at home,Caught up the twist of every idiom.He learned the accent and the turn of phrase,Studied like Latin texts…
Under the green umbrellasDrinking golden tea,There sit the porcelain peopleWho care for you but littleAnd not at all for me. The afternoon in crinklesLies stiffly on the lawnAnd we, two furtive exiles,Watch from an upper windowWith shutters not quite drawn.…
Beside this door a January treeAnswers a few days’ warmth with shoots of green;And knowing what the winds must do, I seeA hint of something human in the scene.No matter how the almanacs have saidHold back, distrust a purely local…
The bones of saints are praised above their flesh,That pale rejected garment of their livesIn which they walked despised, uncanonized. Brooding upon the marble bones of timeMen read strange sanctity in lost events,Hold requiem mass for murdered yesterdays,And in the…