The thing with the feathers

I like things. Things with feathers. I like two things with feathers. The first one is an inspiring poem by Emily Dickson, and the other one is a pair really cute earings I bought at a tag sale. Somehow, walking by all the antiques and worn shoes, my eye caught this treasure, so fluttery and mischievous it winked at me, it was enought to take two dollars out of my pocket, and hand them to a lady wearing 80's leggings nd a oversized v-neck gym shirt. I looked at the palm of my hand and... there they were glowing at the sight of the day. Enough to make me happy, at least for a day. Enough talk talk...So here is the poemthat inspierd my short term happyness:




Hope" is the thing with feathers


"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 BirdThat 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