Good Morning.
“There Came A Wind Like A Bugle,” by
Emily Dickinson, is a poem about storms and the cycle of chaos and
restoration. People who love to analyze
the poetry of others will tell you that it has many layers of meaning and is a
metaphor for life.
Well, maybe. But sometimes a storm is just a storm. If you live on the prairie in Minnesota you
will have no trouble recognizing her imagery of this storm preceded by a great
wind. Pastor Karen and I are both at a
Presbytery meeting today, so I leave you these wonderful words of Ms. Dickinson
to contemplate:
“There Came A Wind Like A Bugle”
There came a wind like a bugle;
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost;
The doom's electric moccasin
That very instant passed.
On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day.
The bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost;
The doom's electric moccasin
That very instant passed.
On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day.
The bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!
By Emily Dickinson.
Happy Birthday to my daughter
Sarah. I love you.
Blessings to all this day.
Pastor Jim
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