
“The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.” Frederic Lawrence Knowles
That Time Again Tilt for tat, the ground shifted so, it was that time again when moon put on her evening wear and danced a little anticipation of solstice in advent of summer's welcome return to evenings of wine and stars on cicada wings, and thermal balm as love floated so gauche with seasoned knowing. Β©Paul Vincent Cannon
A lovely welcome to moonlit summer evenings, Paul. Must be almost time for a sundowner (here anyway) π
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Ha, ours was a little earlier π the vagaries of distance and tilt. π
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It’s always ‘over the yard arm’ somewhere!
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Yes, elevenses anyone π I’m with that, thank you Chris.
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ahhhh lovely.. I’m floating,. β€οΈ Cindy
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That makes it worth the effort, thank you Cindy.
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Oh I’m so glad! πΉπΉπΉ
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Tilt for tat π
stars on cicada wings π
Oh, so that’s what the moon feels for the summer solstice!
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π absolutely, and thank you for that.
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Paul, very picturesque. Lovely images! β€
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Thank you so much Cheryl.
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Paul, love stars on cicada wing, moon in her evening wear and the wine. Sigh…what else could one want!
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So true, I always feel that less is more, thank you for sharing that Punam.
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Indeed. You are welcome.
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I love “wine and stars on cicada wings” and the notion that love can be “gauche with seasoned knowing.”
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I must confess that it’s straight out of my play book really, I’m a bit gauche now and again π I like that you love it, thank you for sharing this Liz. π
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You’re welcome, Paul. Gauche can be quite endearing. π
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π
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moon put on her evening wear… Beautifully express the softness.
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I’m glad you picked up on that, yes – softness, thank you for that Amy.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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π
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πβ¨β¨
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This makes me really missing the summer, and summer evenings. Thank you, Paul!
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Something to anticipate, I guess youβre going into snow later?
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Oh yes, snow is normally arriving in December, but staying for a longer time till the end of March.
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That is not a good sign.
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Its the regular thing, here. Its “Bavarian Siberia” without permafrost. π
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Ouch, unpleasant. π¦
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these words conjured such sensations of summer for me
>
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Yes, it was a potent write for me.
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