Sunday, March 11, 2012


"Hope" is the thing with feathers--
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 Dickenson

A hopeful doodle-- JM
 I hope to .... finish revisions.   

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