We hurried through the winter’s night 
To Emily, in Amherst, 
an homage to Miss Dickinson:
“Hope is the thing with feathers…”

Our spirits flew through galaxies,
to the huntsman, Orion- 
We chased love and myth with him
across the night sky.

You dipped your head to kiss me,
slipped Saturn’s ring upon my finger;
Unspoken vows upon your breath, 
celestial wedding band.

Aurora Borealis, 
stained glass of luminescence-
swayed gently to our humble hymn; 
lyrics known to God.

Perhaps the Belle of Amherst
smiled upon our poets' hearts?

“Called Back” 
etched on her gravestone;
so we were,
and here we are…