Hope’ is the
thing with feathers”- by 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 chillest land–

And on the
strangest Sea–

Yet, never,
in Extremity,

It asked a
crumb–of Me. 

(photograph: oregano)