Coronavirus

THERE'S A CERTAIN SLANT OF LIGHT, BY EMILY DICKINSON THERE'S A CERTAIN SLANT OF LIGHT, WINTER AFTERNOONS – THAT OPPRESSES, LIKE THE HEFT OF CATHEDRAL TUNES – HEAVENLY HURT, IT GIVES US – WE CAN FIND NO SCAR, BUT INTERNAL DIFFERENCE – WHERE THE MEANINGS, ARE – NONE MAY TEACH IT – ANY – 'TIS THE SEAL DESPAIR – AN IMPERIAL AFFLICTION SENT US OF THE AIR – WHEN IT COMES, THE LANDSCAPE LISTENS – SHADOWS – HOLD THEIR BREATH – WHEN IT GOES, 'TIS LIKE THE DISTANCE ON THE LOOK OF DEATH –