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, But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one's going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware. Robert Frost Shot in 2016 with our old HD cameras (it shows!), and recently unearthed down the back of the metaphoric IFM couch.
