Poetry Friday: Marchin' Along

So, in the last week we’ve experienced a change back to Daylight Savings Time, it’s officially spring again, and March is Women’s History Month. Let’s try to cover all those bases by re-reading one of Emily Dickinson’s poems.

This week, I’m especially attuned to last line of the first stanza and the first line of the second stanza. (I can't seem to get them to separate. So, I'm talking about " 'That must have been the sun!' But how he set I know not.")Every time we “spring forward” my sleep patterns get discombobulated.

A Day

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

Which 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.