a yellow bird for Paco

(sold)


Hope is the thing with feathers
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 chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.


Emily Dickenson



a dear friend passed away yesterday. he lived a passionate life, bursting at the seams. i am lucky to have been his friend.