Hope most certainly has feathers-
and he perches on my soul-
he sings the tunes-and-the words-
which in my heart, never stop at all-
And sweetest- from my Webster- is heard-
and no storm so harsh could ever-
deter my little bird-
who warms my heart-
I’ve heard him in the morn and night-
and at my weakest on my knees-
and always- despite all efforts-
he leaves a crumb- for me.
Autumn Siders 