In a recent and very dark moment of my life, a friend sent me this poem by Emily Dickinson that opened my heart. "Hope" is a being plumed
"Hope" is a being feathered -
that settles on the soul -
and sings the tune without words -
and never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the storm - is heard,
E intense must be the storm -
that might confuse The bird
that so many have warmed -
I heard in the cooler earth -
And Sea stranger-
Yet, never, in need,
asked a crumb - of Me
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