Dear friends, I am taking a moment to do a little bit of pre-festivities wallowing...I mean, self-care. If all goes according to plan, I'll be back up and running by Friday. Until then, here's Emily! -- Ashley
After great pain a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.