If hope is the thing with feathers,
as Emily so quotably wrote—
dashes and all—

hope is also the thing with flowers,
a profusion of the blooming things
everywhere in my small orbit,

and I must ask the indulgence
of others who listen to my
exuberant praise after

every outing, every walk,
ogling them as though there
have never been such brilliant

colors mixed with birdsong,
such can’t-miss-it hope
bouncing off every new leaf,

every beaming blossom.

•••

And if you’d like to read Emily Dickinson’s famous poem
“hope is the thing with feathers,” you can do so here.