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 Dickinson
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It looks horrific and on Thursday it was reported that gas leaks were still going on. I am glad you and your family are alive, but feel for all that lost everything, were hurt and especially those that lost their lives.
Thanks for the beautiful poem at a time when words escape us, to reflect…