Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
Why does the "thing with feathers" in this poem sing the tune without the words?
It struck me today that the music of hope is never lost................ even when words escape us.
Where do I hear the song of hope today?
Or, am I lost in the cacophony of the endless cycle of bad news over the airways?
Today, I want to take some time, turn off all of the noisy electronics, quiet my mind.......... and open my heart to hope. I can remember being young, and teachers saying excitedly "shhhh... we have to be quiet to hear the beautiful sounds of nature". I want to capture that quiet of expectancy........... so I can hear the beautiful song of hope.
I want to share the experience with you, too. Do you hear what I hear?