LIX
(...for Emily Dickinson fans)

A light exists in spring
   Not present on the year
At any other period,
   When March is scarcely here.

A color stands abroad
   On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
   But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn ;
   It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know :
   It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,

   Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
   It passes and we stay.

A quality of loss

   Affecting our content,

As trade had suddenly encroached

   Upon a sacrament.

~ Emily Dickenson

Spring 2012