Emily D. bets it all and wins, plus ". . . industrious angels . . ."

Here's some attitude from Ms. Dickinson. Or a combination of attitude and party line, the party being the Protestant work ethic, in which industrious angels are rewarded.

All those laggard angels, the ones smoking dope in celestial alleyways, skipping out early on promises to us (that explains a lot about life on earth) have to (with their wings) inscribe Divinity For All on passing clouds.

I get it, Emily. Who wants to hang out with sodden youth not half as bright as you are, when there's a promise of beatification. That's taking a risk but Emily's bet-hedging paid off.

That Crown and Emily Dickinson achieve immortality here and there. May we all win that bet.



God permits

God permits industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one,—forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightway.

God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing Crown!
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Emily Dickinson courtesy of Bartelby.com