National Poetry Month

Here is a poem I know by heart, by Emily Dickinson.

We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When light is put away –
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye — 
A Moment — We uncertain step
For newness of the night –
Then — fit our Vision to the Dark –
And meet the Road — erect — 
And so of larger — Darkness –
Those Evenings of the Brain –
When not a Moon disclose a sign –
Or Star — come out — within — 
The Bravest — grope a little –
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead –
But as they learn to see — 
Either the Darkness alters –
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight –
And Life steps almost straight.
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About Patricia Markert

Moviegoer.
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