He fumbles at your Soul

As Players at the Keys

Before they drop full Music on –

He stuns you by degrees –

Prepares your brittle Nature

For the Ethereal Blow

By fainter Hammers – further heard –

Then nearer – Then so slow

Your Breath has time to straighten –

Your Brain – to bubble Cool –

Deals – One – imperial – Thunderbolt –

That scalps your naked Soul –

When Winds take Forests in their Paws –

The Universe – is still –

                            Emily Dickinson

Join us in a discussion of this poem with Molly Schwartzburg

Friday, January 14th – 4pm in the Main Lounge