Since I never heard back from this Emily Dickinson poetry contest, I’ll share my three entries with you (over a course of three days). Though I wasn’t a fan of Dickinson in high school, when I went back and reread some of her poetry to inspire me for this contest, I found a new appreciation for it. I do believe I was able to capture her fragile spirit in the words below.
Twilight is a time of expectation,
of pregnant pauses
giving birth to the night,
even as it came from light.
And glorious is the periwinkle sky,
the stars like grains of salt,
the moon like a pearl–
lights behind a watercolor mural.
Seven thousand times, I have seen it,
but such a short time it lasts,
that fine, long gray line
between day and night.