Steve and I took an early morning walk for coffee and a goodie, and then, walked home to leisurely create and savor our Sunday morning breakfast.
I am peaceful and full, feeling fatigue in a way that says yes, this is a hammock day, though I don't have a hammock, but it is a day to gather myself in a blanket of words and rest. My books are piled, offering an array of choice. I'll pick books like bon bons today.
I am with Emily Dickinson this morning.
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 Boy, and Barefoot -
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stopping 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 -
- Emily Dickinson
