Poetry Sunday: It sifts from leaden sieves by Emily Dickinson
(01/14: Oops! I thought I had already published this. Here ya go!)
No snow where I live here in Southeast Texas, but I remember the snows of my childhood and Emily Dickinson describes them perfectly.
It sifts from leaden sieves
by Emily DickinsonIt ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, —
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.