"I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips." Violette Leduc
"When summer gathers up her robes of glory,
And, like a dream, glides away."
Sarah Helen Whitman
Rainclouds passed through last night, and with them went the last true remnants of what has been a glorious summer. Maybe it's because she blew out the sun. But behind them lay cooler air, soft breezes, and that deep, saturated blue with cotton ball clouds that says, "Fall is here. And it's good."