“The heart wants what it wants . . . .”
~ Emily Dickinson
The heart wants blood & proper plumbing
valves
un-clogged arteries
electricity thrumming
a steady rhythm.
It’s a muscle
after all
little mouse of soft tissue
no bigger than a fist
wanting us to eschew
the fat
to move ourselves
in vigorous exercise
to breath deeply
of clean air.
A heart cannot live
on metaphors
that speak of love
and longing
words best left
to poets
& to time.
My husband and I drove some 450 miles over Mother’s Day weekend. We spent time with family, laughed a lot, and enjoyed listening to live music. I drank just enough wine to induce me to sing. The weather was sublime. As we were homeward bound, the late afternoon sun and unending highway made me think of this:
I like to see it lap the Miles/ And lick the Valleys up
Emily Dickinson was writing about a train, but hunched low in my seat, staring over the dashboard at the road ahead, it looked exactly as though our car was lapping up the miles. So I pointed my camera and snapped some pictures.
I wonder if Miss Dickinson would agree.
A Wilderness of Words 