“When anybody asks, 'What are you writing about now?' if I try to reply, the book-in-the-works sounds so idiotic to me that I think, 'Why am I trying to write that puerile junk?' So now I give up; if I could talk about it, I wouldn't have to write it."
- Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet


A Link, A Poem and Good Night

Monday, April 10, 2006

Not much to say tonight as it's 10:30 and time to go to bed – actually it's past my bedtime – so I leave you with a link to a must read post by the Geek over at our Dome Geeks blog, and a fitting poem by Miss Emily Dickinson.

The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,

And now she turns her perfect face

Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond;

Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew

The likest I have known.

Her lips of amber never part;

But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow

Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest star!

For certainly her way might pass

Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,

The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,

Her dimities of blue.

Emily Dickinson


At 4/11/2006 12:44 PM, Blogger yellojkt wrote:

Love the poems. that's a nice way to do National Poetry Week. I've been out of town, but I loved your story about the dropped change. You are now That Crazy Lady That Throws Change Around to everyone in that store. You'll live.

At 4/12/2006 9:26 AM, Blogger Jenny wrote:

Oh, I so love Emily Dickinson. Thanks for reminding me.


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