There are two Ripenings—one—of sight
Emily Dickinson
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of sight— Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground— A homelier maturing— A process in the Bur— That teeth of Frosts alone disclose In far October Air.
![[Poetry X Logo]](http://poetryx.com/images/poetryXLogo.gif)
