Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all … -Emily Dickenson, poem entitled Hope is the Thing with Feathers
On the Spring morning when I took this photograph, my boys and I were going through the regular motions of getting them ready for the school bus in the US. But our dog, Jesse, was in active pursuit of something across and around the back yard. Since she was a Boxer, we always knew it was something alive and usually small. We had to rescue whatever it was.
This time, we discovered this little Chickadee, which had just taken its first flight from its nest in a bird house in our back yard. All around us came the reprimands of its parents, flying nervously from tree to tree, trying to show their babies where to go. But this poor guy– all he could do was fly to this chair and cling for his life. The very definition of Hope– of escaping our Boxer’s frothy jaws. Though he didn’t escape my camera …
To me, Emily Dickenson was right in her poignant metaphor for Hope … what do you think? Do you have a story to share?