So this morning I woke up with the tiniest bit of end-of-summer blues – and I was put in mind of this poem of Emily Dickinson’s.
Because, really, few things are better than poetry for the blues, and one can almost always trust Emily to have written something that will fit the occasion. In truth, what I mostly remembered of this one was “August burning low”, and off I went on a morning quest to unearth it. I can think of worse ways to start the day. Continue reading