Here is the place where loveliness keeps house.
Between the river and the wooded hills.
Here you may meet with beauty.
Here she sits gazing upon the moon,
or all the day tuning a wood-thrush flute,
it is she who flits from rock to rock,
a form of flying spray,
shouting, beneath the leave's tumultuous green.
Madison Cawein 1867- 1914
Photos, Lisa Porter
From the book, A Taste of the Sweet Apple
by Joanna Holt Watson