Burning Toward Night - Missoula, Montana

"...Then, how the fire ebbs like billows,
    Touching all the grass..."  

   - from The Coming Of Night by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

 

Acts Of Light - Missoula, Montana

"Thank You for all the Acts of Light which beautified a summer now passed to its reward."

-Letter from Emily Dickinson to Mrs. John Howard Sweetser 

From Map of the Heart by Susan Wiggs, Part 1 intro page

Freelance Feather - Missoula, Montana

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul 
And sings the tune without the words 
And never stops at all..."

- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), 
from “Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

(Part of the reason I adore this poem is because my dear Sis #2 shared it with me as encouragement many, many moons ago.Thanks, sissy, for a melodic and enduring reminder of truth.)

Guest Post: Morning Comes Early - Corvallis, Montana

One of the benefits to waking up early ... amazing sunrises.   

While staying at Brother #3's Montana home, the dawning day's sky drew me outside. Dressed in a hoodie, brother's shoes, and my PJ'S, I was glad the only other creatures stirring were some quail and deer!  

- Pat R.

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"...Tell me how far the morning leaps—

Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!..."

- from Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Hardy Summit Dweller - Mount Jumbo, Missoula, Montana

I Dwell in Possibility – (466)

By Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Impregnable of eye –

And for an everlasting Roof

The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –

For Occupation – This –

The spreading wide my narrow Hands

To gather Paradise –

Clover Revery, Missoula, Montana

“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,

One clover, and a bee,

And revery.

The revery alone will do,

If bees are few.”

― Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems

Storm Coming, Missoula, Montana

THE WIND begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father’s house,
Just quartering a tree.

- Emily Dickinson(1830–86).