The swallows came back and
now they won’t budge.
They claimed the pillar, set up shop,
songs and all,
during a Thursday deluge.
While I read my morning affirmation:
I now accept
hope. Thought, No. But thank you.
Hope is a nest of swallows
that won’t hush. Hope stalks
from this porch to the next. Hope
is that thing with feathers that
cries until it gets my crumbs.