Mr Ruby Throated Hummingbird had a rest on the clothesline before turning and heading home.
“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.
BY EMILY DICKINSON
I sat outside in the humid soup this morning to get a few bird photos and Mr Hummingbird was kind enough to oblige me.
Although I was out early and only for 45 minutes, I had a sweat bath and required a shower once inside again.
I did some work on the Tudor Cuff I’m making but also talked with my aunt in NJ and participated in an MS Zoom presentation
Take care of yourself & each other xx
Sign in or get an account to comment.