A Poem by Emily Dickinson
Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,
Leaping like leopards to the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face, to die;
Stooping as low as the otter’s window,
Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, –
And the juggler of day is gone!
Poetry by Emily Dickinson
Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”