By Emily Dickinson
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new 'twas Wind --
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand --
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road --
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad --
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
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I have been up since before 6 a.m. so Paul and I could drive Noelle to the airport, and I couldn't even take a nap because we had a plumber coming to fix the upstairs hall toilet (they pretty much had to rebuild the tank). So I am not sure I even remember my day correctly, though it was fine -- weather was unseasonably warm with periods of rain, I went to two raids in Cabin John Park which was only slightly more muddy than usual; we had dinner with my parents and Adam, then watched Ready Player One because Adam had not seen it and it came up over dinner. Our cat-loving neighbor Rose brought presents for us and the cats, so here's a photo of us with ours and another of Effie watching a squirrel menace the house from the deck:
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