Hope Is The Thing With Feather

feather twirls, swirls, dances casting a small theatre in the air before touching the ground then swept again by the wind sommersaults slides before taking another trip of its wayward dance evoking hope in this solitary trip i make to be a poet where i give myself up to the world trails with the wind twirls, swirls, sommersaults with words into every man's heart inspired by: Hope is the thing with feather — 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. Emily Dickinson