The Day Came Slow by Emily Dickinson

The Day Came Slow by Emily Dickinson

The day came slow, till five o’clock
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies, or the light
A sudden musket spills

The purple could not keep the east,
The sunrise shook from fold,
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.

The happy winds their timbrels took;
The birds, in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince
(The wind is prince of those).

The orchard sparkled like a Jew, —
How mighty ‘t was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day!

Poem by Emily Dickinson

Photo by Kayla Scott (Taken in Puerto Rico)

There Is No Other Life But This

There Is No Other Life But This

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”
― Henry David Thoreau

Photo by Kayla Scott (Taken in Puerto Rico)