We are gliding toward that full moon in Leo (drama!) which is followed a couple days later by the Saturn-Pluto square. Here, to quote an informed observer of the planets, “immovable object (Saturn) meets irresistible force (Pluto).” Which role will you play? Me? Count me out of the whole scene. I am the thing with feathers these days. You can find me at the top of the pine tree with Emily.
#797, c. 1863
By my Window have I for Scenery
Just a Sea — with a Stem —
If the Bird and the Farmer — deem it a “Pine” —
The Opinion will serve — for them —
It has no Port, nor a “Line” — but the Jays —
That split their route to the Sky —
Or a Squirrel, whose giddy Peninsula
May be easier reached — this way —
For Inlands — the Earth is the under side —
And the upper side — is the Sun —
And its Commerce — if Commerce it have —
Of Spice — I infer from the Odors borne —
Of its Voice — to affirm — when the Wind is within —
Can the Dumb — define the Divine?
The Definition of Melody — is —
That Definition is none —
It — suggests to our Faith —
They — suggest to our Sight —
When the latter — is put away
I shall meet with Conviction I somewhere met
That Immortality —
Was the Pine at my Window a “Fellow
Of the Royal” Infinity?
Apprehensions — are God’s introductions —
To be hallowed — accordingly —
She can look out her window and see an entire ocean where the rest of us would find a pine tree. The question that stays with me is: “Can the Dumb define the Divine?” She answers the question in the next line two lines: “Definition is none.” There is no way to attach words to something that springs from the mind of God. We keep trying. Writing poems about it. In the end, Emily draws us nearer and nearer to the non-verbal experience of the words, if that’s possible. Sounds and syllables that move us like a gentle tide toward a sensed apprehension. If it weren’t so lovely, the tree, the wind, the fragrance of the pine, it would be maddening to know it, while also knowing simultaneously, the definition falls short.