She sweeps with many-coloured brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!
You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you've littered all the East
With duds of emerald!
And still she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars--
And then I come away.
~Emily Dickinson
4 comments:
What a perfect poem to go with your evening sunset. Beautiful colors!
Amy, I went outside to take out some trash and was overcome by the beauty of that sunset. I had to run back inside and grab the camera. I knew any words of mine would never do justice to that scene, so I went to the bookshelf and pulled out Emily Dickinson and there it was. I loved it!
Susan, hi! There is so little time to capture the sunset!
The Emily poem is very sweet for your photo. Ahh, 'many-coloured brooms . . .'
Ruth, you're so right! I took about 10 photos in just a couple of minutes and each one was so different than the one before it.
Emily sure had a way with words, didn't she?
Post a Comment