Monday Poetry

OF the sharpest function,
That, just as we discern,
The Excellence defies us;
Securest gathered then
The fruit perverse to plucking,
But leaning to the sight
With the ecstatic limit
Of unobtained Delight.

- Emily Dickenson

I put on my overcoat and walked into the winter
My teeth chattered rhythms.
And they were grouped in twos and threes,
like a morse code message was sent from me to me.
and cars on slippery slopes were stuck:
people pushing through their mittens
as I was beginning
to feel like soaking through my shoes,
getting colder with every step I took to your apartment, dear.

- Cab For Cutie (not really a poem but nice anyway)