“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
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #314)
Welcoming Winter
Happy Solstice to you, too, dear Barbara! The light returns the whole winter long. There is hope in that.
Thank you, Susan! Feeling optimistic as the light comes around again! *hugs*
Looking forward to the return of the sun.
The sun is on its way, and very bright this morning in spite of the bitter cold…