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Showing posts from August, 2020

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APRIL - "An altered look about the hills..."

An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere; An axe shrill singing in the woods; Fern-odors on untravelled roads, — All this, and more I cannot tell, A furtive look you know as well, And Nicodemus' mystery Receives its annual reply. APRIL by Emily Dickinson Over the wall, a mother cow sits on the frosty grass beside her newborn, with the sun freshly-risen and a thin veil of milky-morning rolling back towards the hillside across the valley. There are sheep grazing the cold grass and the birds are calling one to the other, performing that annual operetta we know as Springtime. As I stand outside the kitchen and soak this in, the pheasant, with its discordant croaking, brings me to my senses. This pastoral scene is not solely fo...

AUGUST - "Bog Beans, Butterflies, and Silver Filigree / In the Gutter Looking at the Stars"