Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

slanting line, wings bowed sharply downward. They are perhaps getting ready to go south. From a remote distance I heard one give its silvery whistle.I can think of no better pastime than merely to sit on this rock here, in the shade of the maples and merely listen to the wind blow and feel it. August sultriness - seek the shaded woods when the wind can find you! The field here abounds with katydids. Byron has the cicadas “making their summer lives one ceaseless song” One wonders if there are no