sunday morning poem and sunday things

 

i started early - took my dog

i started early - took my dog -

and visited the sea -

the mermaids in the basement

came out to look at me -

and frigates - in the upper floor

extended hempen hands -

presuming me to be a mouse -

aground - open the sands -

but no man moved me - till the tide

went past my simple shoe -

and past my apron - and my belt

and past my boddice - too -

and made as he would eat me up -

as wholly as a dew

open a dandelion's sleeve -

and then - i started - too

and he - he followed - close behind -

i felt his silver heel

open my ancle - then my shoes

would overflow with pearl -

until we met the solid town -

no one he seemed to know -

and bowing - with a mighty look -

at me - the sea withdrew -

by emily dickinson (1830-1886)

the complete poems of emily dickinson, page 254, poem 520, little brown and company, 1960

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we had breakfast with chanda before she caught the train out to the house for another few days of volunteer work.

pluto in the morning . .

i had a fun and lovely zoom knitting meeting with denise and friends in the afternoon. (denise has sewn a new full length pants outfit from a gift of special couture fabric and michael has been spinning and knitting while healing from a bicycle accident - i worked on my sock with yarn from beautiful knitters in london).

afterwards, greg and i walked to chelsea square . . 

as i was craving their matzoh ball soup.

this feels very christmasy . .

morgan has been working on a beautiful quilt . .

and chanda and adam went on a hike and she sent this photo of lichen she saw along the way,

and this cute squirrel who greeted her at the house.

greg and i saw the moon rising on our walk home after dinner . . it's slowly waxing.