It sifts from Leaden Sieves
by Emily Dickinson
[ Found in [easyazon-link asin=”B00008RWBU” locale=”us”]The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson[/easyazon-link] ]
It sifts from Leaden Sieves —
It powders all the Wood —
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road.
It makes an Even Face
Of Mountain, and of Plain —
Unbroken Forehead from the East
Unto the East again.
It reaches to the Fence —
It wraps it rail by rail,
Till it is lost in Fleeces —
It deals Celestial Veil
On Stump and Stack and Stem —
A Summer’s empty Room,
Acres of Seams, where Harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.
It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
As Ankles of a queen —
Then stills its Artisans like Ghosts,
Denying they have been.
C. Christopher Smith is the founding editor of The Englewood Review of Books. He is also author of a number of books, including most recently How the Body of Christ Talks: Recovering the Practice of Conversation in the Church (Brazos Press, 2019). Connect with him online at: C-Christopher-Smith.com
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