This quiet dust was gentlemen and ladies
And lads and girls;
Was laughter and ability and sighing,
And frocks and curls;
This passive place a summer’s nimble mansion,
Where bloom and bees
Fulfilled their oriental circuit,
Then ceased like these.
-Emily Dickinson
Poem of the Month 
These bones are like a bees nest, all shabby and worn at the end of summer, abandoned, collapsing, wondering whether the sun will shine next year. Or is there nothing?
She always inspires me. Thank you.
TOG