Hope

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all

And sweetest in the Gale is heard

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm

I've heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest Sea

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb of Me.

-Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

I've been reading and writing poetry for years. This poem is one of my favorites. Perhaps I'll share some of mine later, but for today I'm content to read again the inspirational words of a lovely lady from long ago...