It Doesn’t Take a Telescope
Grand go the Years,
In the Crescent above them–
Worlds Scoop Their Arcs–
And Firmaments–row–
Diadems–drop–
And Doges–surrender–
Soundless as Dots,
On a Disc of Snow.
–Emily Dickinson
[Courtesy of new-old friend Arthur Boehm, on facebook]
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