little h — hope

An Emily Dickinson poem for this Friday. Here, it is sunny and summer has fallen. Some near friends are having birthdays and my far away friends are healing. So, enjoy, take care and have a good weekend.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

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.

5 responses to “little h — hope

  1. Julia,

    It’s interesting to pop in on your blog now and then, always good reading. I’m curious, though, have you left the library profession behind? It sounds like your goal now is writing.

    I love all the shifting colors of being a children’s librarian, and thought from the time we were in school, that you’d be excellent in the library profession. It’s extremely busy, though, forget that 1 1/2 month vacation you spoke of in your last entry; I only get six days a year. On my second year, I’ll get 12 days a year.

    from Goldstein days

  2. Kimbre! I know you are a great children’s librarian. To answer your question, no, I haven’t given up on being a librarian — know I’ll get to it one day. It is just difficult over here to find that kind of work (especially sans visa). But yes, now is the time to write. Trust me, I’d rather do w/o a month and a half off (especially unpaid) and be working in the profession again.
    So good to hear from you and keep me posted on life and work.

  3. What a lovely poem. I like the first two lines, “Hope is the thing with feathers…” Nice. I need a little hope today, thank you.

  4. Thanks, Julia! Do you think you’ll come back to the States one day to live? I’ve heard that library jobs are very hard to come by in Europe, even with the visa.

    It seems to me that you’re gathering a great deal of material just from your life and observations. Writing comes from that point where time stands still, and you float within the stillness. When I was a features writer, the zone experience was like the silences that breathe behind the mountains.

    I’m further away from my family than I want to be, but 420 miles is much closer than 3,000. Meanwhile, I’m running the Children’s department, and also do adult referance. It’s always interesting and creative, and in time I’ll reach my dream of living near my family, too.

    Wishing you well in all your endeavors. I know you’ll do great in whatever you do.

    p.s. The Dickenson poem is one of my favorites.

  5. emmaentertainment


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