The bird let me approach him. He fluttered his wings, twittered, and buzzed, but he remained on the barren branch. I stood very still as I took his picture, and it made me think of the poem our family pastor posted. Hope is a thing with feathers, I recited as I looked at this bird. But first we need to get off the ground and take that first flight into a new future. That was my addition to Emily Dickinson’s poem this week.
Fly with faith.