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 gales 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
We drove home from picking Ike up from class, Alexander threw a tantrum....all the way home. He is so angry sometimes and it really concerns me. We were sitting down to eat lunch a few minutes later and Alexander folded his hands together and looked up at me saying, "Pray?". Hope.
We are so in-synch!! This is one of my all-time favorite poems! Do you remember Mom sent it out for her C-mas cards years ago? It was a Winter scene with a little red cardinal in a tree branch. Sigh. I just love it, but don't worry- not more than I love you!!
ReplyDeleteLove, HOLL