“Hope” is the thing with feathers-
That perches on 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-
But- never-in Extremity,
It asked a crumb- of me.
Right? That’s a nice thing to recite on a sunny morning when you’re about to start your period. Isn’t it?
Hey, p.s. I hate the automatic double-space WordPress does. That poem is supposed to be single-spaced but I do not intend to waste my whole morning making that happen. Blurg.