A Wind That Rose Though Not a Leaf in Any Forest Stirred

Emily Dickinson's poetry is just falling off her like windfall fruit everything now seems to be poetry. One more poem this is from 1873 so about 10 years after the other poem and i would say into the period where she was recluse with a capital r a wind that rose though not a leaf in any forest stirred but with itself did cold engage beyond the realm of bird That's the first bit  this is a quote from a Emily Dickinson letter friday i tasted life it was a vast morsel a circus past the house i still feel the red in my mind and it is it's just a gray image and it's in a letter even in a conversation there's a story a