Drenched by the Moon
Member Curated (November, 2021)
"The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue, and, weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely transient, infinitely regretful." — F. Scott Fitzgerald; This Side of Paradise, p. 40
James R. Eads
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