Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words and never stops...at all.
~Emily Dickinson
During my walk yesterday I heard the birds singing. Really they were so ever present and vibrant it was impossible to tune them out. I noticed branches already about bursting with buds. We've hardly had a winter here to speak of so the season hasn't overstayed its welcome, and yet we all long for spring. We yearn to see the telltale signs of rebirth and renewal. I know I am ready for a change of head and heart. The warming temperatures and greening of the world around me restores my hope that I too will thaw and flower again...that I will sing and soar in due time.
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