The Capriciousness of Summer Air

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightlest bondage made aware.

-Robert Frost

I have felt like a silken tent.

I fought an uphill struggle this weekend, trying to tear my friends away from their books and out into the glorious sunshine. Luckily, a few share my belief that sunlight is better for the soul than studying.

All photos courtesy of Blackberry Technology ... what a gizmo that little thing is.