Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

yellow. How it attracts the eye. It is the one spot, the landscape cannot keep us.(HT)The roar of a train in moonlight is something new.(HT)A soft violet glow of the same kind as surrounded the sun is around the moon. Crickets fill the air with song. Come to end of Farquhars. Hear “rasping” Wee-wee-wee of a tree-frog. I determined if possible to ascertain his kind. Climb tree. The sound ceases but I persevere. The smell of bark spicy. As I neared the top, I felt all around and then shook the tree but had to admit