Today I lift a line from Emily Dickinson.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
My finches, every spring—
On my wreath their nest awaits
New life they always bring—
This year —more than ever—
I watch for their return—
Yet the nest is empty
Of that for which I yearn—
I wonder what is keeping them
And if my charm is gone—
Do the finches know somehow
Life must keep moving on—
Come home, little finches—
Come home— if you will—
Hope is the thing with feathers
Where I’m abiding—still.
Note: “Charm” is the group name for finches.
lit bits and pieces 
Oh how lovely. Thank you.
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I kept waiting for a finch story…
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I miss them so much right now.
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I’d be channeling my dad if I told you this was a charming poem.
But I think it really is great that you took your inspiration from Emily Dickinson. Sometimes it’s just fun to play with lines, or patterns, or styles.
This was beautiful!
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I only intended to borrow that opening line and found myself copying her form with my own sentiment … once again, Writing takes over, I am just the conduit …
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That’s a wonderful feeling when it happens!
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