HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS

Our small 1920s home is quite disorganized and bursting at the seams at the moment--Punchy's Pom Pom Wow! materials, play teacher supplies and punching bag are in the living and dining rooms. Figgy has a few fish tanks with big swimmers in her room and the basement, and one for Punchy's hermit crabs in the kitchen--I think watching the sea life calms Fig down--and Dan and I love to garden, so we have fish and plant supplies here and there.

The kitchen is cluttered and messy but, but--let that be my starting point on this list.

1. The sink and counter are piled with dirty dishes since we are busy with work deadlines BUT THERE IS FRESH COFFEE IN THE POT, COLD MILK IN THE FRIDGE AND A CUP FILLED WITH PINK BLEEDING HEART FLOWERS FROM THE YARD.
2. The bathroom could use a nice scrub BUT OUR SOLID GOLD SITTER/FRIEND WASHED, FOLDED AND PUT AWAY STACKS OF TOWELS AND WE HAVE A FEW BOTTLES OF CALMING LAVENDER BABY BATH, WHICH ALL THREE OF US FEMALES USE. [DAN HAS SOAP ON A ROPE.]
3. The dining room is decorated with Easter baskets [just put them away], bills, books, china, platters and cake pedestals BUT WE CAN ALWAYS CLEAR A SPACE FOR PUNCH TO DO HER HOMEWORK AT THE TABLE.
4. The lawn must be mowed and weeded BUT DAN TRIMMED THE RHODODENDRON HEDGES AND I GOT DAHLIA BULBS IN THE DIRT.
5. Our clean laundry gets put away on a hit or miss basis, BUT WE SPENT THREE NIGHTS AT THE CAPE IN APRIL AND HAVE WHITE CLAM SHELLS, BLACK MERMAID PURSES AND AN EGG-SHAPED ROCK TO PROVE IT.
6. The car could use a cleaning BUT WE DROVE 600 MILES ROUND TRIP TO CAPE COD AND MOTORED TO THE TIP, TO PROVINCETOWN, WHERE WE SAW WIND-WHIPPED BEACHES AND NARROW STREETS WE WON'T SOON FORGET.
7. We are short on money for our bills BUT WE SHARED TWO DINNER ENTREES BY CANDLELIGHT AT THE THE WICKED OYSTER IN WELLFLEET THAT SATURDAY NIGHT.
8. My clothes need to be organized and put away again BUT THIS MORNING, AS IF BY MAGIC, I BENT DOWN AND FOUND MY YOGA PANTS RIGHT BY THE BED AT 7:15.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

Related Poem Content Details

BY EMILY DICKINSON [1830-1886]

“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.