#316
The Wind didn't come from the Orchard -- today --Further than that ---Nor stop to play with the Hay --Nor joggle a Hat --He's a transitive Fellow -- very --Rely on that --If He leave a Bur at the DoorWe know He has climbed a Fir --But the Fir is Where -- Declare --Were you ever there?If He brings Odors of Clovers --And that is His business -- not Ours --Then He has been with the Mowers --Whetting away the HoursTo sweet pauses of Hay --His Way -- of a June Day --If He fling Sand, and Pebble --Little Boys Hats -- and Stubble --With an occasional Steeple --And a hoarse "Get out of the way, I say,"Who'd be the fool to stay?Would you -- Say --Would you be the fool to stay?
-Emily Dickinson
This just seemed to fit the season. The wind frequently leaves Bur/pine cones on our doorstep, though I moved this one up a couple of steps to get the door in. We know where those come from: there's a giant pine tree in our front yard, so I Declare I have been there. Our backyard Orchard is two apples and a pear--none of which bear much fruit, alas, too shady and too many squirrels--but if we get blossom smells, which we did last night, it's from the lilac bushes of our neighbors to the north.
The Mowers have been busy this season, and we get plenty of Clover smell, too. So far--fortunately--no occasional Steeple has landed in our front yard, though the Anglican church is only a block away...
