Published by Tournesol
A little bit about moi:
I am a mom, a nana, a sister, a woman, a friend, a human being…a youth counsellor, Family Life Educator.
I have been working in the helping profession for over 25 years and volunteered in various capacities from youths to seniors.
Tournesol is my nom de plume for haiku and other Japanese form poetry here at Tournesoldansunjardin https://cheryllynnroberts.wordpress.com I hope you enjoy reading through my daily waka.
I also have another blog "Stop the Stigma" where I may stand on my soapbox now and then and hope it will become a place to drop in and share or comment on issues important to you. In that vein this could be a great way to learn from each other.
http://stigmahursteveryone.wordpress.com
View all posts by Tournesol
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Now my mind is all full of thoughts of what I imagine an evening in a Tuscan cafe would feel like.
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Nice image you describe…I was thinking of a friend, years ago whose family is from Northern Italy and each year his uncle would go the port of Montreal to pick up the grapes from Italy to make his own wine. He had saved hundreds of bottles for the wedding of his daughters.
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This is wonderful imagery. Can’t say I like the taste of Grappa though.
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Yes, well, I am not partial to it either, nor rice wine.
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