How lovely is this Almost silence. The leaves, lean From summer's day Breathe hints of soft September wind Swaying in old, mellowed August sunlight
This almost silence Among the leaf notes Strums a summer's benediction While the cardinal And the jay Hush to listen Still as icons Until a cicada churns Tamed by time and wear Abandon frenetic crescendo In unison To rasp a muted, "Amen."
Time now to gird my heart To bear the rapture Of Fall.
Ireland 1945. Florence Kite finds a letter and her whole world crumbles. Marcus Fanning was her real father. But twenty-five years ago, Marcus Fanning vanished off the face of the earth.
Ireland 1945. Florence Kite finds a letter and her whole world crumbles. Marcus Fanning was her real father. But twenty-five years ago, Marcus Fanning vanished off the face of the earth.
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