hoh the s to interest me through mere touch.i feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf.i pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch?or the rough?shaggy bark of a pine.in the spring i touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of a nature after her htful,velvety texture of a flo of the miracle of natuasionally?if i am very fortunate?i place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song.i am delighted to have the cool y grass is more e ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama?the action of h my finger tips.
at times my heart cries out ing to see all these things.if i can get so much pleasure from mere touch?hoht.yet?those ranted.it is human?perhaps?to appreciate little that for that reat pity that in the ht the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
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