I hear the lark on the open meadow. Lark song makes my heart rejoice. I look at the blue sky and up there, portrayed as a troubled spot on heaven’s vault, it sings to high heaven.
It happened in March, but lasted all summer.
Now swallows practicing with their chicks. They are the masters of abrupt turns.
Never do I see a clash. Unbelievable.
I think, they all fly together towards the south.
A cheering thought ❤
The birds laugh loud and long together
When Fashion’s followers speed away
At the first cool breath of autumn weather.
Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay!
When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over
Both look their passion through sun-kissed space,
As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover
Might each gaze into the other’s face.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox, The End of Summer
You must be logged in to post a comment.