Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

 (HT)I go to investigate. Just as I lean over she flies out. I go down and put my arm in. Can find nothing but a carpet of twigs. A fine location for cliff swallows. The creek bank is formed of yellow clay which rises in a ragged perpendicular wall. The holes were smoothly dugs and just large enough to admit my arm.(HT)A bluebird who has a home in the dead top branches of an otherwise healthy tree, fills the air with song. Kingfishers clickers up and down stream.As the sun sets wierd misty clouds of fantastical weave and shape spread out over