I feel, at times, that my words are inadequate. Or repetitive, dull and boring. And it dawns on me that so many have written things that speak to my heart and can convey, much more eloquently, what I feel.
So, here's Emily Dickinson. I so apologize that I haven't thought to post her (and so many others') words until now.
Hope is the Thing with Feathers
“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.