It seems like despair is everywhere.

The climate is changing.

This nation is divided.

Our world is inhumane.

Then, I look at the birds in the yard.

The little thrush in the tree seems curious, cautious, and calm.

I find peace, harmony, and hope.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all….

~~~ Emily Dickinson