Adapted From The Book "Stillmeadow Sampler" by Gladys Taber
" The turning wheel of the seasons rolls slowly now, in August. People walk without hurry. Cows seek the shade of oak or sugar maples in the pastures and chew their cud dreamily. The wild country cats tiptoe along the stone walls at dusk, instead of racing with tails flat out. The hounds bark in halfhearted fashion when they tree something. Even the haying lacks the feverish haste of early summer, for most of the barns are full. Pumpkins and squash are ripe, corn silk darkens in the corn patches. There is a hiatus between the hard work of midsummer and the brisk days of woodcutting, filling woodsheds,chopping kindling, to come. Weeding in the garden is about over. From now on, the vegetables can hold their own, weeds or no. High time too, says Jill, after all the tending they have had all summer. Nature and man both seem to move on a light rein for a short time, a restoring time."
the night will never stay, the night will still go by, though with a million stars you pin it to the sky; though you bind it with the blowing wind, and buckle it with the moon, the night will slip away like sorrow or a tune.