Zero at the Bone

Emily Dickinson's thoughts on snakes

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

This particular narrow fellow is harmless -- except to mice and the occasional small bird. But oh! how Emily nails that feeling I get when surprised by any snake. The monkey mind screams danger and I shudder.

The feeling passes quickly -- once I've made sure it's not a poisonous snake.  I can pick up a big blacksnake when necessary to get him out of the chicken house (or the house -- yes, it's happened.)

But I have to quiet the monkey mind and remind myself that the snake is a fellow creature with every right to go about his business -- though when that business is eating chicken eggs, that when I step in to relocate him.

Fascinating and beautiful creatures -- and so very other.

Two Houses Speak to One Another

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

That was Emily Dickinson. The two pictures made me think of the gardinels I talked about a while back -- but when I posted them, Miss Emily's poem came to mind. (You know, she was a very strange lady.) I imagined these old buildings speaking to each other. (Okay, so maybe I'm strange too.)

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