April 2, 2010

Still need a winter coat! The morning is crisp, cold and frosted. The sun looked like it might pop out, but not yet. Peaceful and not quite spring. Reminds me of Emily Dickinson's poem:

Hope

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 gentle gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm

I've hear it in the chillist land,

And on the Strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb from me.

Emily Dickinson