Grace

[weaving wolf]

Oh how she would prance and sing
for every day a lifetime there within
and she brought a light to shine
never far from my mind
and although my heart is shaken
I regret nothing
for I would be mistaken
to see this pain, as anything, but a gift
for with it I create
works of wonder and love
so, I say thank you
for our little dove
-E

 

[GaleriaGila]

May I only offer...

“Hope” is the thing with feathers​

By Emily Dickinson
“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.