Dear Emily—

  —Hope is the thing with feathers.   Here is a truth: I thrive on hope. But yet, here is another: if you fill a pillow with feathers, I cannot sleep— I wake in the middle of the night, heavy-chested and warm, throwing off the dark as if it were...

Poem of the Day: Emily Dickinson

  #670 (“One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—“)   One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted— One need not be a House— The Brain has Corridors—surpassing Material Place— Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting...