“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
happiest birthday lil bird
This is beautiful as are all your writings!! I’ve been thinking of the 3 of you all week. I know someone who might move to Oregon ! I told your mother we now have another reason for flying so far out west. Together we can make that long plane ride!!
Take care, Much love to you!!
Betty Mark