Hope

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.

-Emily Dickinson

Tears

Salty expressions

of emotion

shake the stability

of my world.

Wet confetti

with which I celebrate

the wonders

and the tragedies

of living.