“Hope” is the thing with feathers –That perches in the soul –And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all –
This poem popped into my head this morning while driving into work. It made me shiver, like goose bumps, from the back of my neck down to my toes. My Grammie recited it to me years ago. I remember when she asked me to find it in her giant poetry book; the same book I read to her in her final days, and the same book I now keep atop my bookshelf at home.
I needed to remember these words this morning. There are too many people wading through mud and shadows these days. There is family reconciling loss and misfortune, friends struggling with illness, and countries marching through grief. Honestly, it weighs on me.
So today I’m embracing these words, and to anyone who may need it, I offer them as a life line. I hope they are able to lift you, that you let them perch in your soul and you feel the flutter…and hope on.
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –And sore must be the storm –That could abash the little BirdThat 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.
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