Hope and Change

Sprite’s Keeper Spin this week is poetry. Either share a poem you love or write a poem. I had planned on either writing a poem or sharing an old one. I used to love writing poetry. One of my two publishing claims is a poem I wrote as an undergrad that was selected for the University of Hawaii’s Hawaii Review (my other published piece is an educational research article in an educational periodical – yeah even writing that phrase bored the blog world). But my old poetry tended to be dark. And I wanted a poem this week about hope or change or hope and change. And there is a favorite poem of mine that I’ve loved since high school days. So, I’m sharing that instead.

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS
Emily Dickenson (1830-1886)

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.

Well, my hope did ask for some crumbs last Fall. I was very hopeful, but felt the need to put effort into my hope. I spent a few Sundays volunteering my time by making phone calls. The butterflies that come to life in my stomach, the goose bumps I get, the sense of a burden being lifted, all of this every time I hear Obama’s speeches. But that is the work of tomorrow. For today, we have this speech to honor.