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When you login the first time using a Social Login button, we collect your account's public profile information shared by the Social Login provider, based on your privacy settings. We also get your email address to automatically create an account for you in our website. Once your account is created, you'll be logged-in to this account.
I’m not a huge Blake follower but I can’t resist the opportunity to quote poetry.
I love Shelley’s The Cloud
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
I once memorized that whole poem. Pieces of it still float in me
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Kym, if you don’t publish these wonderful photos in a book, or at the very least a calendar, I’m going to be q
Oops, I didn’t hit enter, but it stopped me in mid sentence.
…quite disappointed!
What a sky! Makes me want to cloud surf 🙂
I love cloud and sky photos.
Hey when are you going to join Flickr. It’s time you know.
Gorgeous!
This beautiful photo leaves me with just one feeling, “Peace.”
Considering it sounds like all of northern CA is on fire, I’m surprised at how blue is the sky in your photo.
And yeah! When are you going to post to Flickr?
Thanks all.
Flickr? Why? I’ve never really explored the site.
The smoke goes in and out. Today is a bad day. A few days ago there wasn’t hardly a sign.
oh, to be a bird!
“How do we know but that every bird that cuts the airy way is an immense world of delight closed to our senses five.”
William Blake
I’m not a huge Blake follower but I can’t resist the opportunity to quote poetry.
I love Shelley’s The Cloud
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
I once memorized that whole poem. Pieces of it still float in me