A Poem in My Pocket

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.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

Where has this week gone? Re-entry to school was challenging, but time is flying..too quickly for me.
Big Buff rooster has found a new home with a lovely Italian gentleman in Salem- so king and thoughtful, he called me tonight just to let me know that the transition went well..and Big Buff has a whole new flock of admiring hens following him around..this encounter with Stephano made me realize how is just one happenstance moment complete strangers can come into your life and bring you something new and unknown..and you weren't even expecting that to happen..I feel like I have a new friend, filled will knowledge about things that interest me and willing to share, gladly, what he has learned from his own life's experiences..

Questions that have come to mind this week -
Does anyone know the location of the black hole that is filled with the matches to all the single socks I have?
How much do we really need to live comfortably - how many things?..a portable life is at times very appealing.
How is it that I see my husband, children, grandchildren as the jewels of my life, while other woman who also have husbands, or children or maybe even grandchildren have no desire to openly acknowledge that the are part of those lives? I find that sad. I can be myself and still be Bob's wife, Kendall, Alex, Luke & Carley's mother and especially Henry, Evelyn(and Walter's)Mormor. They do not diminish who I am, but rather adorn me...I am truly blest.

Sleep beckons, and the new day's morning will be much quieter, as I don't imagine Big Buff's crow will carry over dawn's breaking from his new roost...