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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