Hope
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
It's been a long while since I've come across this poem and today it seemed fitting -- both for the unusual image I found on a walk with the tots this past week and following my more drear post of a few days ago. Hope defined: Seeming fragility that belies a deep-rooted resilience and strength. A spot of blue in a field of drying, old leaves.
2 comments:
heather my dear i don't know if you realize it but this is the theme for today at Shutter Sisters. If you can add it to their flickr pool then you would have become a sister!! it is a stunning image and will be loved by other sisters.
p.s. a flickr account is free. if you need any help getting yourself added to the shutter sisters pool or with anything else i would be delighted to do so.
and this is my most favorite lines of poetry in the world!
p.s.s. blue paint of blue sky dreaming dust?
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