Another week passes

Pipestone Canyon

Methow Valley
"Nature never betrays the heart that loves her..."

After great pain, a formal feeling comes-
The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs,
The stiff heart questions, was it he, that bore,
And yesterday, or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round-
Of ground, or air, or ought-
A wooden way
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead- remembered, if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow-
First chill- then stupor- then the letting go.

Emily Dickinson