Heads or Tails: Love Story

Mama never forgets her birds,
Though in another tree —
She looks down just as often
And just as tenderly
As when her little mortal nest
With cunning care she wove —
If either of her "sparrows fall,"
She "notices," above.

Emily Dickinson
c. 1860

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Technorati Tags: Emily Dickinson, motherly love
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Emily Dickinson: I lived on dread

I lived on dread; to those who know The stimulus there is In danger, other impetus Is numb and vital-less. As ’t were a spur upon the soul, A fear will urge it where To go without the spectre’s aid Were challenging despair.

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The Robin by Emily Dickinson

The robin is the one That interrupts the morn With hurried, few, express reports When March is scarcely on. The robin is the one That overflows the noon With her cherubic quantity, An April but begun. The robin is the one That speechless from her nest Submits that home and certainty And sanctity are best.

Technorati Tags: American robin, Turdus migratorius
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Emily Dickinson: Yellow

XXXI. Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets, -- Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman, Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly, Like a lover's words.

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Wild Nights for the Full Moon

In February I tried to take a photo of the full moon but it was so cold that my breath kept fogging the photographs. I then decided to use this Emily Dickinson poem with one of them. Because after all — steamy breath means wild nights. I post it for Sunday's Full Pink Moon. By the way, the February full moon is the Full Snow Moon:

Since the heaviest snow usually falls during this month, native tribes of the north and east most often called February's full Moon the Full Snow Moon. Some tribes also referred to this Moon as the Full Hunger Moon, since harsh weather conditions in their areas made hunting very difficult.

Technorati Tags: Full Pink Moon, waxing gibbous moon, Full Snow Moon, Wild Nights, Emily Dickinson

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First Robin of Spring

THE ROBIN is the one That interrupts the morn With hurried, few, express reports When March is scarcely on. The robin is the one That overflows the noon With her cherubic quantity, An April but begun. The robin is the one That speechless from her nest Submits that home and certainty And sanctity are best. Emily Dickinson

Seen on Sunday, April 13, 2008 during the snow squall.

Technorati Tags: American robin, Turdus migratorius, Emily Dickinson
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The (Hairy Little) Woodpecker

This tiny male hairy woodpecker (above) and female (below) are the smallest I have seen. They "look young," as if they are youngsters. But it was still snowing this weekend, so I don't know how they could be juvenile birds. The female was resting with her belly on the branch and her chin on another branch. When the male came, she chased him up and down the tree until he flew off.

The Woodpecker
by Emily Dickinson

His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree, —
A worm his utmost goal.

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Technorati Tags: hairy woodpecker, Emily Dickinson, Picoides villosus,
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The Gentlest Mother by Emily Dickinson

Nature, the gentlest mother,

Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,--
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.