perched in my soul...

     

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

It's hard not feel that resurgence of hope as things start to wake up from their winter's sleep. Though the winter was mild, it still left the earth brown and barren here. But little by little we see what Maya excitedly calls "signs of spring!" I also feel similar stirrings within me - desires to learn and grow and nurture and overcome some things that have been weighing me down. It's amazing to see these delicate snowdrops insistently pushing upwards towards the sun. So fragile, and yet they withstand such frosty weather. They are intrepid, daring to be the harbingers of the new season. 

Oh, the hope swells within!