Wednesday, August 31

A Million Shades
The soft, warm, gentle touch,
when late Summer meets early Autumn,
nothing can compare,
nothing can equal,
this wondrous, beautiful union,
when a tired, slumbering Summer,
and the awakening, boisterous Autumn,
and a soft, warm breeze,
blows a single leaf,
floating down,
the fore runner of millions,
golden and russet,
soft and brittle,
crisp and crunchy,
a carpet of a million shades,
a patch-work blanket,
to gently fall,
and sleep upon the land.
 - Ambrose Harte
scattered thoughts

  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov