Hope

I saw a rainbow on the way to work today. It offered so much promise to the day. It made me think of hope.

Emily Dickenson wrote this 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 hale 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.