There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Weight
Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal – as a Siberian Cat
Ineffable to Wounds –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ‘tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –

• Emily Dickinson