The thing with feathers

"Hope" is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.

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 lands,
and on the strangest sea;
yet never in extremity,
it asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

(I have found that, while it may not ask anything of me, it perches more often when I make an overt invitation.)

 

Comments

[elizabeth hutchinson]

oh Margaret,
How I love those flying birds! Thanks for posting them.