“HOPE” IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS⠀ ⠀ “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⠀ ⠀ Photo: Rebecca Norris Webb, Havana, 2007, from the book, Violet Isle, with Alex Webb @radius.books⠀ ⠀ ■ I dedicate this Poetry Sunday post to my friend Henry—and to his loving and supportive family. Henry, your kindness, intelligence, encouragement, and humor continue to be a gift to so many of us in your orbit—a variety of friends, colleagues, and students you’ve helped throughout the years. Taken together, think of our friendships as a ring of hope surrounding you and your beloved family (including Eddie!).⠀ ⠀ #PoetrySunday⠀ #EmilyDickinson⠀ @henryfuhrmann⠀ @drive_a_bus @bethhoward56