A Poem For A Thursday

I generally have a hard time with Emily Dickinson's poems. I know, I know pretty sinful for a former poetry student. I think it's the old school language (Perfidy? Should I know that?) or even silly things like random capitalization, but she's a lot of work and we all know how I feel about work.

This one drew me in, particularly the closing two lines "Our summer made her light escape / into the beautiful" How perfect is that!? Even now in late October I still find myself clinging to summer. She's got a good point. It's not like September 21 arrives and the world gets dark, the leaves drop and we all hide in our houses (wait for February for that) but instead, summer just sort of slips away. The annual transition to fall is light, slow, soft and beautiful. Not exactly sure how it all relates to grief but go ahead and explore that on your own. HA!

As imperceptibly as Grief
Emily Dickinson

As imperceptibly as Grief

The Summer lapsed away--

Too imperceptible at last,

To seem like Perfidy--

A Quietness distilled

As Twilight long begun

Or Nature spending with herself

Sequestered Afternoon--

The Dusk drew earlier in--

The Morning foreign shone--

A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,

As Guest, that would be gone--

And thus, without a Wing

Or service of a Keel

Our Summer made her light escape

Into the Beautiful.