Hope is the thing with feather

feather
twirls, swirls,
dances
casting
a small theatre
in the air
before touching
the ground
then swept again
by the wind
sommersaults
slides
before taking
another trip
of its wayward dance
evoking hope
in this solitary trip i make
to be a poet
where i give myself up
to the world
trails with the wind
twirls, swirls,
sommersaults
with words
into every man's heart

inspired by:

Hope is the thing with feather —
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
Emily Dickinson

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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