By Emily Dickinson
A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him, — did you not,
His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun, —
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
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Adam is home so he can go hiking on Saturday with Christine in the mountains where the leaf color is at peak! My morning was taken up with a review of Voyager's "Resistance", then a walk to see the one bunny who deigned to appear at the edge of the woods during the afternoon. And then we went to College Park to get Adam!
We had dinner with my parents -- my mother says this is the longest stretch she has gone without seeing Adam since he was born -- and now we are watching that great scientific classic San Andreas because he has not seen it. Here are a few pics of the magical critter exhibit at the Maryland Renaissance Festival, the Dragon's Den:
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