“His bill an auger is…”

” His Bill an auger is His Head, a Cap and Frill He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal ” ~Emily Dickinson You name a bird, Emily would have sung about it! Emily’s magic brings the woodpecker and places the bird right before your eyes! The black rumped flameback woodpecker is the

Happy Birtday Emily Dickinson!

    The Poets light but Lamps – Themselves — go out — The Wicks they stimulate If vital Light Inhere as do the Suns — Each age a Lens Disseminating their Circumference —                                          

Those Halcyon Days will be back soon!

“A fellow in the skies Of independent hues, A little weather-worn, Inspiriting habiliments Of indigo and brown. ……. With gay delays he goes To some superior tree Without a single leaf, And shouts for joy to nobody But his seraphic self!” Emily Dickinson   Emily’s lines are about the Blue Bird, yet perfectly match with

The spider as an artist…

95 The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed — Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified By every Broom and Bridget Throughout a Christian Land — Neglected Son of Genius I take thee by the Hand — Emily Dickinson Recently I came across this Emily Dickinson one. I have rather been inactive on

Knock, knock…That’s April

  “Who Knocks? That April- Lock the Door- I will not be pursued He stayed a Year away to call When I am occupied But trifles look so trivial As soon as you have come That blame is just as dear as Praise And Praise as mere as Blame” Emily Dickinson

The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms-sweep vale-and hill-and tree…

A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps! The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms— Sweep vale—and hill—and tree! Prithee, My pretty Housewives! Who may expected be? The Neighbors do not yet suspect! The Woods exchange a smile! Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird— In such

An Altered Look About The Hills…

  When Spring is about to spring forth, here’s one from Emily…   An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn— A print of a vermillion foot— A purple finger on the slope— A flippant fly upon the pane—

The Grass So Little Has To Do…

    The Grass so little has to do – A Sphere of simple Green – With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain – And stir all day to pretty Tunes The Breezes fetch along – And hold the Sunshine in its lap And bow to everything – And thread the Dews, all

The leaves, like women, interchange…

Here’s one from Emily where she compares leaves to women. I love the tone of the poem and the choice of words. The leaves, just like women, seal a pact of confidence while interchanging their views and secrets. Their intuition or foresight or their reasoning skills are not to be questioned. They are wise, shrewd

A lane of yellow led the eye…

While clicking away the papaya tree outside, its beautiful leaves and the different birds that visit the tree, little did I know that the papaya leaves are going to play a major role in the coming days! Soon after my Kerala visit I was down with a bad dengue fever attack and to help to