Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice
I just wear my Wings
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last
I’m going, all along. ~ Emily Dickinson
Mornings like this never fail to bring the words this poem that I loved since I was a young girl to mind. The beauty of the rising sun was rivaled by the sunset colors of the blueberry leaves all decked out in their fall colors.