summer poetry

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon —
A depth — an Azure — a perfume —
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see —

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me —

The wizard fingers never rest —
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed —

Still rears the East her amber Flag —
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red —

So looking on — the night — the morn
Conclude the wonder gay —
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!

-emily dickinson-

it's not yet summer, not quite. but the late sunset is something to behold. the sun reinforces and re-activates my sullen spirit. time is still of the essence as i'm filtering activities in my calendar. is it really going to be a rainy saturday? but the sunny intervals for sunday and monday makes up for oh so wet saturday, somehow.