Poetry Friday

THESE ARE THE DAYS WHEN BIRDS COME BACK

by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

HESE are the days when birds come back,

A very few, a bird or two,

To take a backward look.




These are the days when skies put on

The old, old sophistries of June,--

A blue and gold mistake.




Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,

Almost thy plausibility

Induces my belief,




Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,

And softly through the altered air

Hurries a timid leaf!




Oh, sacrament of summer days,

Oh, last communion in the haze,

Permit a child to join,




Thy sacred emblems to partake,

Thy consecrated bread to break,

Taste thine immortal wine!

Emily writes this of a late Indian Summer day, but I enjoyed reading this poem today after hearing geese fly over our house at dawn with their good morning call. We've had four days of sunshine in a row. And even though temps are not veering too far from the freezing mark, the sunshine provides some continued melting. Several robins visited us yesterday. Can you guess what we have? Spring fever. "O fraud that cannot cheat the bee" we must remind ourselves it is January 16th.