Poets tell me Hope is a feathered thing,
Like a bird on the wing,
Swifts and swallows swoop in pentameters…
Calling me to action.
But but also to rest.
Let Hope
roost in your hands and your heart.
Poets tell me Hope is a feathered thing,
Like a bird on the wing,
Swifts and swallows swoop in pentameters…
Calling me to action.
But but also to rest.
Let Hope
roost in your hands and your heart.