A Light exists in Spring
By Emily Dickinson
A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here
A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.
It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.
Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —
A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.
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My whole Monday was sorting ancient cosmetics and jewelry in the bottom of my bedroom armoire, and freecycling lots of random things (purses, art supplies, perfume, shoes). My mom brought us bagels, so we stopped at Giant to get cream cheese and took a walk in the park.
Kristen and I finished Thor: The Dark World and started Age of Ultron. Evening involved watching some basketball with a break for History's Greatest Mysteries: Blackbeard's Lost Treasure and Quantum Leap. Turtles at the C&O Canal last weekend:
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