I work in Grund and sometimes people die. Last night it was really tragic though. When I went home I picked out a book from one of my favourite poets and found this:

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part Two: Nature

LXXVI


APPARENTLY with no surprise
To any happy flower,
The frost beheads it at its play
In accidental power.

The blond assassin passes on,
The sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another day
For an approving God.

really good, true and down to earth. I like it a lot. Here is
more of her poetry