Just Cause It's Beautiful
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, dog days, when people do things they are sure to be sorry for after.
Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
--Jenni
1 Comments:
It's not only beautiful, it's beauteous! Reminds me of those opening lines to Canterbury Tales...
Wan that April with her shoores soote,
And the cold hath perced to the roote...
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