Life: CVII
By Emily Dickinson
The reticent volcano keeps
His never slumbering plan;
Confided are his projects pink
To no precarious man.
If nature will not tell the tale
Jehovah told to her,
Can human nature not survive
Without a listener?
Admonished by her buckled lips
Let every babbler be.
The only secret people keep
Is Immortality.
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Poem in honor of Mount St. Helens, even if it's not really about a volcano. Am in a better mood today, thanks; I need to talk to my doctor about my TMI female problems, I think. It's getting worse every month.
Picspam by request. People who wanted autumn leaves: can you wait till this weekend? Our neighborhood has only just begun to turn and they aren't so impressive, but at the end of next week we are making our annual trip to Washington Monument State Park and Gathland, where the color ought to be much more lovely. More to come later, though,
Now everyone on my friends list can feel good about themselves, because
