It has a sting

Hope is the thing

no room (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
~ Emily Dickinson

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset

Longs ss 7

Photo by Richard Fogg

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
How the Hemlocks burn—
How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder
By the Wizard Sun—

How it is Night—in Nest and Kennel—
And where was the Wood—
Just a Dome of Abyss is Bowing
Into Solitude—
~ Emily Dickinson.

There is another sky

Elk sky

Photo by Richard Fogg

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there…

Never mind faded forests,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green.
~ Emily Dickinson.

The Robin is the One

kold robyn (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

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

Bashful and the Bee


Apotheosis by Emily Dickinson

B buz bfly

Photo by Richard Fogg

Come slowly, Eden!
Lips unused to thee,
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars — enters,
And is lost in balms!