Poetry Friday is hosted by Mary Lee @ A Year of Reading
Storm clouds billowed ominously all over the valleys and mountains here, and when the rain came it was ferocious. This old farmhouse has seen many storms in its time, but I am not ashamed to admit that I was genuinely scared…that thunder was awfully close, and that lightning was awfully bright. Of course, we lost internet service for hours, too…but there was something rather atmospheric about seeing out a raging storm with nothing but books and my writer’s notebook for company. The storm has passed, and I now leave it to Emily Dickinson to capture the mood of what remains…
A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.
A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!
The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.
The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.