Wednesday, April 13, 2011
hope (one hundred two)
To top it off, I cannot get my pictures up to blogger and I have to use flickr to do it. The day's been caca, I tell you. I am managing to keep up with my photo-a-day, but just barely. But we're here, breathing, well(ish), together. That's all that matters in the end.
So. A poem. Not mine.
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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me
Thank you, Miss Emily.