Find beauty in clouds. Of people. Of minds.
And what lies underneath?
The last days of summer are so fleeting, wistful of
long, warm sunny days that call upon a bit of poetry.
by Howard Nemerov
Day after day, day after still day,
The summer has begun to pass away.
Starlings at twilight fly clustered and call,
And branches bend, and leaves begin to fall.
The meadow and the orchard grass are mown,
And the meadowlark’s house is cut down.
The little lantern bugs have doused their fires,
The swallows sit in rows along the wires.
Berry and grape appear among the flowers
Tangled against the wall in secret bowers,
And cricket now begins to hum the hours
Remaining to the passion’s slow procession
Down from the high place and the golden session
Wherein the sun was sacrificed for us.
A failing light, no longer numinous,
Now frames the long and solemn afternoons
Where butterflies regret their closed cocoons.
We reach the place unripe, and made to know
As with a sudden knowledge that we go
Away forever, all hope of return
Cut off, hearing the crackle of the burn-
ing blade behind us, and the terminal sound
Of apples dropping on the dry ground.
I’m always intrigued by clouds; constantly changing
and no two are ever the same.
These images of clouds almost look surreal.
Summer slips by too quickly so lately I’ve spent as many
nights as possible trying to catch the last glimpses before
it fades into oblivion. These are a series of photos taken
from Edmonds beach over the course of an hour at the
end of the day.
Photos were taken with an iPhone 4.
None of the photos has been altered.