New feet within my garden go

A brief, sharp poem about the anxiety and allure of new arrivals. Dickinson imagines new feet trespassing through her carefully cultivated garden, those 'borders' she has tended with solitary devotion. The flowers, 'Amateurs' to her seasoned eye, must now face exposure to sun and rain without her protective oversight. Yet there's a twist: the speaker confesses she possesses 'nothing but The Sun / My trophies' - she is no grand gardener but an amateur herself, dependent on the same elements she fears will harm her blooms. The poem pivots toward something more pointed in its final lines, as Dickinson imagines a neighbor in Wales whose estate 'Beats Angel' - a man who runs 'for God' may not be so near to the divine as the humble soul who takes 'the Book / For the small Worm.' It's Dickinson at her most intimate and wry, mixing the domestic with the theological in her characteristic compressed way.