“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul—
and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.”
I spotted the first robin a few weeks ago.
The return of the seasonal birds in my area announces the coming of spring. A welcomed sight after a cold, snowy winter.
The next day I saw a deer, an opossum, and a raccoon. The animals were waking and starting to move—another muffled whisper of spring.
Yet the weather remained dreary, the winds chilly, and gray clouds hid the sun. Winter persisted. The frozen ground imprisoned spring flowers. I began to wonder if the animals were wrong.