Summer is all a green air— From the brilliant lawn, sopranos Through murmuring hedges Accompanied by some poplars; In fields of wheat, surprises; Through faraway pastures, flows To the horizon’s blues In slow decrescendos.
Summer is all a green sound— Rippling in the foreground To that soft applause, The foam of Queen Anne’s lace. Green, green in the ear Is all we care to hear— Until a field suddenly flashes The singing with so sharp A yellow that it crashes Loud cymbals in the ear, Minor has turned to major As summer, lulling and so mild, Goes golden-buttercup-wild.
I read lots of books, from mythology retellings to literary fiction and I love to reread books from childhood, this is a place to voice my thoughts for fun. I also like to ramble about things such as art or nature every now and again.