Bruce Shanks (1908-1980)

[inscription reads] " fell in a torrent of some glittering poplars - marking the end of the dark. / A fine sunset - a clump of red-purple clouds, edges quivered with fire-gold. Odd how they seemed to stay there, tho (sic) I marked how still the air was - webhazed trees motionless; a bright blue haze - even near things are blue - sticking to the air, holding it prisoner. A cold odor; leaf cluttered streets; in the east a bank of plum clouds tops majestically yellowed, swift-shrinking flock-twinkles of blackbirds. "