Summer has been lovely. All the walks in the woods, the time spent wandering aimlessly, for a while, just looking, peering into the faces of flowers, the dark edges of ponds, the soft plop, plop of mysterious creatures coming up for air, or food perhaps. Reading poetry there, and beauty of course. The silence and the incessant chirping, all falling with equal grace upon the eager, grateful ears that like to hear nothing and everything, that are married to sound and silence with equal fervor. The rising and softly falling away of images, day dreams. Some known, others unknown. Strange yet strangely familiar. All this and so much more.
Summer has been so lovely.