(By William H. Majoros (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
The calendar has said "spring" for about 3 weeks, but it seems slow in coming here. We are encouraged by the flocks of robins we see hopping around. Geese and other birds are on the move. Tulip leaves have popped through the earth, and a few green blades of grass are showing through the brown. All of these things spell "hope" for me.
Here's how New England poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) saw it:
“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.
What signals hope for you?