9-27 Emily’s Window

       I have browsed through many a poetry book over the years, and by far the most profound and succinct was a collection of Ms. Dickenson’s poems. I often shook my head at her terse command of descriptors. This emerged accordingly:

 

Emily’s Window

 

Spring’s grass

Is Nature’s Mass,

And across the meadow—

Her cathedral vast.

 

This verdant majesty

Fills pews with birds and bees,

As white-cap petals gust

Across clover seas.

 

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