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.

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

–Emily Dickinson

[image by Isabelle Arsenault]

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2 Comments

Filed under Grow, Nurture

2 responses to “

  1. fantastic art, love your style..

    keep writing…

    Merry Christmas!
    Welcome join us 4 Poets Rally or potluck poetry…

    blessings.

    • Thanks for the compliment, there’s a lot going in this tinker.
      I hope you had a blessed Christmas and rang the New Year
      in with people you love! I’m just trying to pay it forward 🙂

      Hope you don’t mind, I added you to my blogroll.

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