The particular quality of today's wintry afternoon brought to mind the first two lines of this poem by Emily Dickinson. I couldn't shake the sound of these words in connection with what I saw; each time I glanced out the window, I found them poured into my spirit. Winter Afternoons -
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes -
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us -
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are -
None may teach it - Any -
'Tis the Seal Despair -
An imperial affliction -
Sent us of the Air -
When it comes, the Landscape listens -
Shadows - hold their breath -
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death -
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