45 I counted till they danced so – “Snow flakes.”

 

Snow flakes.

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town –
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down –
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig –
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!

[Emily Dickinson]

Written late 1858, in Fascicle 2 – the first of three poems to have a title!

This is so sweet, so joyous – the innocence with which nature elicits joy.

Prig – a self-righteously moralistic person who behaves as if they are superior to others.

Peace, Love, and Namaste –

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32 The morns are meeker than they were

We’ve entered Fascicle 3! I swear I haven’t skipped around, the poems naturally jump from 1 to 3 this way. We’ll see if 2 comes up later on. Now it’s Fall of 1858, and, of course, she captures the change of season in her language –

 

The morns are meeker than they were –
The nuts are getting brown –
The berry’s cheek is plumper –
The Rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf –
The field a scarlet gown –
Lest I sh’d be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.

[Emily Dickinson]

How can one ever hope to keep up with Nature’s everchanging beauty? Simply, one cannot. I’ll tell you a secret – beauty isn’t a contest. It’s not a zero sum game. We can all be abundantly beautiful, and celebrating each other’s beauty intensifies our own. Find beauty in everything and you will find beauty in yourself; we reflect what we see in the world.

Namaste, beautiful –

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29 All these my banners be

Late summer 1858, last sheet of Fascicle I.

 

All these my banners be.
I sow my – pageantry
In May –
It rises train by train –
Then sleeps in state again –
My chancel – all the plain
Today.

[Emily Dickinson]

The chancel is a part of a church reserved for choir and clergy. Nature is the community, the decoration, the noble looker on. I love the image of a little woman directing trees and flowers and grasses to grow and blossom, like a conductor.

Joy and peace –

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27 Flees so the phantom meadow

Written late summer 1858. This one and the last were combined into one in an un-author-approved publication ┬áin 1945 and 1960. But she transcribed them into her Fascicle I separately. This is a sweet one; a bit of commentary follows –

 

Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee –
So bubble brooks in deserts –
On ears that dying lie –
Burn so the evening spires
To eyes that Closing go –
Hangs so distant Heaven –
To a hand below.

[Emily Dickinson]

This is all about pining, that innate longing humans have for our true home apart from this world. Here’s a challenge – live like you’re already there. Bring Heaven to Earth, whatever that means to you.

Love –

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25 A sepal – a petal – and a thorn

This playful ditty was written in the late summer of 1858.

 

A sepal – petal – and a thorn
Opon a common summer’s morn –
A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
A Breeze – a’caper in the trees –
And I’m a Rose!

[Emily Dickinson]

Whatever the weather may be, it’s a beautiful day to get a little drunk on nature!

Peace –

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24 Frequently the woods are pink

Written in summer 1858, copied into Fascicle I. An ode to Nature’s constancy and variety –

 

Frequently the woods are pink –
Frequently are brown.
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.
Oft a head is crested
I was wont to see –
And as oft a cranny
Where it used to be –
And the Earth – they tell me –
On it’s axis turned!
Wonderful Rotation!
By but twelve performed!

[Emily Dickinson]

Namaste –

 

23 In the name of the bee

Written late summer 1858, age 27. 23 is my favorite number, and this poem has long been a favorite – the beauty of paralleling the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit with the Bee, the Butterfly, and the Breeze – apt, playful, AND respectful. J’adore.

In the name of the Bee –
And of the Butterfly –
And of the Breeze – Amen!

[Emily Dickinson]

Love –


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22 A brief but patient illness

Written late summer 1858, aged 27. Such whimsicality as this comes as we allow ourselves to live fully with Nature –

 

 

A brief, but patient illness –
An hour to prepare –
And one below, this morning
Is where the angels are –
It was a short procession –
The Bobolink was there –
And aged Bee addressed us –
And then we knelt in prayer –
We trust that she was willing –
We ask that we may be –
Summer – Sister – Seraph!
Let us go with thee!

[Emily Dickinson]

Namaste –

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