"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... 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 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
A hint of wilderness and a free spirited wildness that will never be caged.
Indian tobacco leaf, dried orris roots, freshly cut hay, sultry golden amber, rock rose, the subtle muskiness of sun warmed skin and buckskin suede, and a sweet kiss of wild sugar cane.
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