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21. Jun 2007

A narrow fellow in the grass


     A narrow fellow in the grass
     Occasionally rides.
     You may have met him -- did you not?
     His notice sudden is.

     The grass divides as with a comb,
     A spotted shaft is seen,
     And then it closes at your feet
     And opens further on.

     He likes a boggy acre,
     A floor too cool for corn;
     Yet when a boy and barefoot,
     I more than once at noon

     Have passed, I thought, a whiplash
     Unbraiding in the sun;
     When, stooping to secure it, 
     It wrinkled and was gone.

     Several of nature's people
     I know, and they know me;
     I feel for them a transport
     Of cordiality,

     But never met this fellow,
     Attended or alone,
     Without a tighter breathing
     And zero at the bone.

     Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)