Friday, August 1, 2008

Poetry Friday

A Day

I'll tell you how the sun rose,
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
by Emily Dickinson
And now the fam is off to pick our year's supply of blueberries!

1 comment:

Laura said...

I like the poem and am envious of your blueberries! I hope you get a lot!