The thing with feathers

Sadly, this nest will never yield any hatchlings - it was abandoned last year. I found it last week when I was cleaning out the birdhouses.  It resonates pretty strongly with me as my house remains empty, but it also makes me think of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem.

“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.