INTO FALL....

FULL MOON by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) 

                                                 From her collection "Dark of the Moon" 1926

I listened, there was not a sound to hear

In the great rain of moonlight...

                ...pouring down.

The eucalyptus trees were carved...

                     ...in silver.

And a light mist of silver lulled the town.

I saw far off the grey Pacific bearing

A broad white disk of flame,

     And on the garden-walk...

a snail beside me...

         Tracing in crystal...

...the slow way he came.

"Midsummer night the garden perfumes are earth and apple, dewy pine and rose..." -Sara Teasdale

Photographs 2026 Mt. Washington range 

                                    from Campbell River, BC.

 

LATE AUGUST ...

"August rain: the best of summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time..." -Sylvia Plath

"August of another summer, and once again I am drinking the sun..." -Mary Oliver

"The month of August had turned into a griddle where the days just lay there and sizzled..." -Sue Monk Kidd

"Those late August mornings smelt of autumns from day-break, 

...till the hour when the sun-baked earth allowed cool sea breezes...

...Garden spiders retired in the evenings to the shed,

...and there wisely took up their abode on the ceiling." -Colette

"August was nearly over. The month of apples and falling stars..." -Victor Nekrasov

"August is the last flicker of fun and heat before everything fades..."-Rasmenia Massoud

"August breeze...perched on the flame tree..." Meeta Ahluwalia

"August was smoking hot, then September walked in

... in cool as a cucumber, and made her presence felt."

                                                                                -Charmaine J. Forde

Photographs 2026 Mt. Washington, from Campbell River, BC.

 

SMOKE in the SKIES...

WHAT THE THUNDER SAID(excerpts) by T.S. ELIOT(1888-1965)

Here is no water but only rock

Rock and no water and the sandy road

The road winding above among the mountains

Which are mountains of rock without water

If there were water we should stop and drink

Amongst the rock on cannot stop or think

Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand

If there were only water amongst the rock

There is not even silence in the mountains

                       

But dry sterile thunder 

  

...without rain

And no rock...

if there were rock and also water.

And water a spring a pool among the rock

Not the cicada

and dry grass singing

but the sound of water 

over a rock...

Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees

Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop

But there is NO water...

Photographs 2026