Hope
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 chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
Gorgeous! I find such beauty in those old abandoned places---and always wonder the story behind them...how they came to be abandoned and fell into total ruin. Kind of sad. Happy week to you- xo Diana
ReplyDeleteAmazing, what a lovely way to start my Monday. Thank you my friend!
ReplyDeleteWonderful photos. Wishing you a very nice week.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem Carla! Janice
ReplyDeleteWhat beautiful photos!! Do you know the story of the buildings?
ReplyDeleteWonderful way to start the week!
ReplyDeleteMontana?
Poor neglected house! Nice shots.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful, Carla, both poem and images.
ReplyDeleteHappy December,
Amalia
xo
Beautiful Carla. I love this poem it speaks to my heart. Happy Holidays.
ReplyDeleteKris
Beautiful photos and beautiful poem...for a season chocked full of hope! Hugs!!
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful poem, I have a book of Emily Dickinson poems and never get tired of reading them.
ReplyDeleteThe photos are so pretty too, but like someone else said it is sad that they are empty now.
I hope that you are having a wonderful week!
Hugs, Kimberley
yes, the week of hope. Beautiful poem as we light our candle of hope during the first week of Advent.
ReplyDelete