Hope

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

The image size is 15x21 on St. Armand handmade paper, mixed media collage.

To purchase: skgolsen@mindspring.com or call 770-479-7368