MARCH SUNLIGHT
March is the month of uncouthness, of raw ungoverned power
― It is an awkward youth just emerging from boyhood
― Crows flying over wide valleys
― Zigzag patches of snow on the hills
―
Sitting by the roaring rapids, that glitter white in the sunlight
―
The ground around sends up a sticky sound of melting frost
―
Spiders are abroad in dry grass ―
A mourning cloak butterfly ―
A song sparrow ―
The roar of rapids ― it holds me spellbound
― thought ceases and yet is scattered to the far
horizons where the white flames of March fires are burning
―
Charles Burchfield
CURRENT EXHIBITS
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