 |
| River Witham, Spring 2021 |
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
 |
| Lincolnshire Wildlife Park, Summer 2021 |
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
 |
| Oxford Towpath, August 2021 |
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
No comments:
Post a Comment