A Serenade to Die For

A Serenade to Die For is a Mystery and Suspense Festival pick on N. N. Light’s Book Heaven!

serenade

Eye level

Nature will bear the closest inspection. She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain. ~ Henry David Thoreau.

wet lvz

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Step into the sun

From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There’s more to be seen than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
~ Elton John, Tim Rice

blk B head on (2)

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Humongous

My personality is humongous. ~ Cardi B.

brd need shv

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Up leapt the light

farm s riz 5

Photo by Richard Fogg

I thought the darkness would not yield,
Glooming the sun-forgotten sky,
‘Till pulsing, surging glows revealed
A far-off burning,—home or field,
Up flung the light. Oh whence? O why?
 
I thought forgetfulness had spread
A Lethean gloom athwart one sky,
‘Till memory’s light crept warmly red
From flame I deemed in ashes dead.
Up leapt the light. Oh whence? Oh why?
~ Ruby Archer.

A speck in the heavens

How could this earth of ours, which is only a speck in the heavens, have so much variety of life, so many curious and exciting creatures? ~ Walt Disney

wsp fly

Photo by Richard Fogg

His heart enclose

wed woz

Photo by Richard Fogg

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves, ” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

~ Dorothy Parker
 

A work of art

A work of art; and yet no art of man,
Can work, this work, these little creatures can.
~ Geffrey Whitney.

B land

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

The Nursling of the Sky

T strm trz

Photo by Richard Fogg

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley.

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset

Longs ss 7

Photo by Richard Fogg

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
How the Hemlocks burn—
How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder
By the Wizard Sun—

How it is Night—in Nest and Kennel—
And where was the Wood—
Just a Dome of Abyss is Bowing
Into Solitude—
~ Emily Dickinson.