Today is Emily Dickinson’s birthday. Her soulful cryptography remains an enigma to ponder and sip from. Dickinson’s presence is explicit in this poem of mine that appears in “Night, Mystery & Light” called “… peaceful rest.” copyright Hiraeth Press 2011. Please consider this an early Holiday Gift.
. . . peaceful rest.
Often we are undone by the incompleteness
And inconsistencies of this sacred landscape.
Your Soul has already traced the path – now go.
I read the sign: “No Dogs OR Irish Allowed.”
How true – none of us are welcome everywhere.
And duende? Circle back, the trail is still fresh.
In a past life I was a more talented poet.
Of course I never had the courage to write.
Is it true she only wrote her words in pencil?
Dread – a distracting stowaway, ever hungry.
I recall searching the gravestones for my name.
And avoiding the places of silent starvation.
The ants have decided my chocolate is fair
Payment for Dali’s thoughtful snub. The feeding of
The smallest of things should never be neglected.
The carriage will not be trusted with the coffin.
Jim, join these five sons of Erin and carry sweet
Miss Emily from the Homestead to peaceful rest.
Night, Mystery and Light 
The path of the soul is alwayis toward a graveyard, isn’t it? And in graveyards everyone is welcome. In the meantime, yes, I agree, let’s feed the smallest things. Often the small have enormous appetites since everything looks so large to them.
A satisfying poem, Jim. Send more.