At Dawn

 

Dawn lake (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

Are not the forest fringes wet
With tears? Is not the voice of all regret
Breaking out of the dark earth’s heart?
She too, she too, has loved and lost; and though
She turned last night in disdain
Away from the sunset-embers,
From her soul she can never depart;
She can never depart from her pain.
Vainly she strives to forget;
Beautiful in her woe,
She awakes in the dawn and remembers.

~ Alfred Noyes

 

Stop and smell the roses

sml flwr

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

You got to stop and smell the roses
You’ve got to count your many blessings everyday
You’re gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road
If you don’t stop and smell the roses along the way

~ Carl Severinsen and Mac Davis, songwriters.

 

Press’d by the Moon

grt bst moon (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Press’d by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides,
While the loud equinox its power combines,
The sea no more its swelling surge confines,
But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides.
The wild blast, rising from the Western cave…
~ Charlotte Smith

The Starlings

brds s riz tre 3

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

…the starlings are chattering, quarreling and laughing,
whispering and quietly enjoying themselves,
when suddenly a blustering as of ten thousand pairs
of sharp-edged scissors
passes through the republic of the plains–
it is as though an alarm had sounded,
heard as an echo over the muffled traffic.
Soon the darkness of night will fall.
But the starlings up there won’t stop talking,
they move together, push one another, chatter and flit.
~ Jesper Svenbro

One lonely hour

mnt ss 21

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

When insect wings are glistening in the beam
Of the low sun, and mountain-tops are bright,
Oh, let me, by the crystal valley-stream,
Wander amid the mild and mellow light;
And while the redbreast pipes his evening lay,
Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.
~ William Cullen Bryant.

Red-winged

rw bb sf

Photo by Richard Fogg

almost evening
sun-horizon-brilliance
matched with the spread
of bird-wings that fold
their dark to voice
~ Grant D. Savage.