Hope is the Thing with Feathers

I've heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me.

Why do we have grey skies?

Why do we have grey skies? Is it just for rainbows?

If

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;

She walks in Beauty

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright

New Firsts, New Milestones

First story shared

Fills me with remembrance and determination

First warrior met

Fills me with compassion

The Raven

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

Palm Trees

They are dancing
Swaying to the music

Little Bird

Little bejeweled bird
On a Sunday
you were a gift from Him
I clasped you to remember that everything would be fine
you were still near
life continues
the earth still spins like your hyperactive wings.

A Bird came down the walk

Than Oars divide the Ocean,  Too silver for a seam,  Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,   Leap, plashless as they swim.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

You have made a wide path for my feet

to keep them from slipping.