Emily Dickinson, It will be Summer-eventually
It will be Summer — eventually.
Ladies — with parasols —
Sauntering Gentlemen — with Canes
And little Girls — with Dolls —
Will tint the pallid landscape —
As 'twere a bright Bouquet —
Tho' drifted deep, in Parian —
The Village lies — today —
The Lilacs — bending many a year —
Will sway with purple load —
The Bees — will not despise the tune —
Their Forefathers — have hummed —
The Wild Rose — redden in the Bog —
The Aster — on the Hill
Her everlasting fashion — set —
And Covenant Gentians — frill —
Till Summer folds her miracle —
As Women — do — their Gown —
Or Priests — adjust the Symbols —
When Sacrament — is done —
Poor pup. That look of the permanently cheated -- I'll never trust anything again... even if I didn't before.
ReplyDeleteLovely second photo, the drippiness is palpable.
Here, too -- promising days... and then a cold front from the North, biting winds, 38.6 degrees F.
(Were Emily's hands frozen -- into a sewing-machine stutter -- with those systematic dashes -- I sometimes wonder? -- Reading her poems -- is a bit like having hiccoughs -- ...)