Tuesday, December 10, 2013

perched in the soul

“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

Happy 183rd Birthday, Emily Dickinson!

When I was an angsty 13 year old, who dreamed of being a poet, my favorite Auntie Ruthie introduced me to Emily Dickinson. Mind blown.

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