National Poetry Month: Poem #7

  “Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

By Emily Dickinson

“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.

This is such a precious metaphor. Thank you, Emily.

Emily Dickinson 1830–1886

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/emily-dickinson

Journaling 10/25/18

The morns are meeker than they were - (32)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

The morns are meeker than they were - 

The nuts are getting brown -

The berry’s cheek is plumper -

The rose is out of town. 

The maple wears a gayer scarf -

The field a scarlet gown -

Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned 

I’ll put a trinket on.