Time Warp
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.
Thanks. The new hatch fledged this week.
Ha! Glad they’re off & at ’em.
Oh, how I like this piece Megan! The unique slant of your own telling voice, and the six words of miss Emily D.’s Hope poem (a favorite of mine).
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
Yep, that’s the one! So glad you connected with this poem.
Noisy, hungry swallows
swift flying hope~
all it needs are crumbs
of purpose to fly.
Nice one, Jody!
Megan, brava on creating so much beauty, power and hope in a compressed space. I’m reading again and again. Finding new each time. Thank you.
Elizabeth, that is the greatest compliment I could receive. Thank you.