In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much - how little - is within our power
“In this short Life…” (1292) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
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How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
When someone unfamiliar enters my vicinity, I shout STRANGER DANGER! and form a cross of my outstretched index fingers that I point in their general direction.
But seriously, it’s just a vague memory at this point.






Throw the blue ball above the little twigs of the tree-tops,
And cast the yellow ball straight at the buzzing stars.
All our life is a flinging of colored balls
to impossible distances.
And in the end what have we?
A tired arm -- a tip-tilted nose.
Ah! Well! Give me the purple one.
Wouldn't it be a fine thing if I could make it stick
On top of the Methodist steeple?