I’ll Tell You How The Sun Rose

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose – 
A Ribbon at a time – 
The Steeples swam in Amethyst – 
The news, like Squirrels, ran – 


The Hills untied their Bonnets – 
The Bobolinks – begun –
Then I said softly to myself –
“That must have been the Sun”!

But how he set – I know not –
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while – 

Till when they reached the other side – 
A Dominie in Gray – 
Put gently up the evening Bars – 
And led the flock away –

This wonderful poem by Emily Dickinson inspired me when I first read it in my late teens, and it still inspires me today.

The photograph was taken from my village, Morchard Bishop in Devon, looking at Dartmoor in the distance.

Sparks of Nothingness

Gazing at their brilliance

          I think of the miracle of all things

                      made from nothing

~

And us, mere sparks of nothingness,

          yet blessed by supernatural solicitude

destined like children of light

          to shine in a darkened universe.

Devon A Light

The sky pinks and oranges

With red

Celebrations

After a stormy night

And in imagination I’m led

By nature and a million words

Which in the silence I have heard

That might

Set Devon all

A light.

~

Photograph: sunrise from Morchard Bishop, Winter 2025