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Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 33 Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like water-lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise man from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies. * We take a ride in the car, and I roll my window down so I can feel the wind, so I can give the day to all my senses. The air smells like peppermint. My lord, what a morning! I should have been a gypsy. Here, little pilgrims, is the place where morning lies - in these patchwork hills is all the light, the gold and orange of morning. We stop and eat apples in the hush of aspens that do not quake and scarlet scrub oak, and admire the occasional lizards that run among the roots. Ants are everywhere. *Emily Dickenson |
