Emily Dickinson

I don't much like Emily Dickenson (have you ever made it through the whole "Song of Myself"?). But I came across this one and since it has been rainy lately I thought it worthwhile to share

XXXVII

THE WIND begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,—
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees 5
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow; 10
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain, 15
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father’s house,
Just quartering a tree. 20



This week's rainstorm (or was it last week?) sounded to me like a truck engine with a sticky lifter. It went through all the gears in about 10 min and then slowed to nice purring idle. I normally like the sound of the rain but having the ghost of a "78 ford ranger chugging outside my bedroom window? Less than poetic.