Hope is a Thing with Feathers
Emily Dickinson
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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
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I love birds. I love how they sing songs to one another and glide in the sky. Such a simple carefree life. I love the symbolism that they represent.
The picture is of a bird of paradise, a lovely flower that brightened my birthday in Hawaii 2 years ago.
May 2010 be our year for hope and abundant blessings.
Cheers,
MA
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