Poetry Saturday - Uncertain waiting

I discovered today's poem originally at this blog in a series of posts about infertility, which I have already mentioned. It captures the feeling of waiting for something that has no guarantee of coming or no estimated time of arrival.

If You Were Coming In The Fall

By Emily Dickinson

IF you were coming in the fall,

I ’d brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,

I ’d wind the months in balls,

And put them each in separate drawers,

Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,

I ’d count them on my hand,

Subtracting till my fingers dropped

Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,

That yours and mine should be,

I ’d toss it yonder like a rind,

And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length

Of time’s uncertain wing,

It goads me, like the goblin bee,

That will not state its sting.

Picture from: www.artbywicks.com