Clouds drift, White and free, Over hills bathed in light. When twilight falls, The shadows stretch, Each blade of grass, Suddenly alive. The dusk enfolds The soft world, It breathes as the day Recalls its end.
- Sylvia Plath
Clouds drift, White and free, Over hills bathed in light. When twilight falls, The shadows stretch, Each blade of grass, Suddenly alive. The dusk enfolds The soft world, It breathes as the day Recalls its end.