Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

windstorm had just taken place on the moon, and some of its dust has found its way hither - it sifts down thru the soft air & puts a white coating on all things. Patches of yarrow are but sploches of moon-dust.(HT)Ordinary sounds become significant. I never before heard men’s voices, dogs barking, cows lowing or sheep baa-ing.(HT)Very little distance in moonlight. Hills & trees saturated with glint & respond. Rustle of leaves metalliced by silver.