4.5.15

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Sunday was to reboot an Emily Dickinson poem...I picked "Hope" is the thing with feathers -     Check out the original here http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171619 and then my bastardization below.

Wanderlust

Hope is the sharp-eyed clawed thing

that perches on the shoulder

of the soul, humming

the tune without the words

into the ear, sweet and scratchy,

a gale of what is lacking,

what can be found elsewhere,

anywhere but here.

It is unabashed by my hands

that pull at its feathers,

by my feet that try to take root.

I can’t shut it out,

can’t shut it off.

I’ve heard it in the

coldest night, outside my window

in the blackness of snow,

and on the emptiest highway,

riding moonless breezes in the sunroof.

It sings of strange seas, oilslick

promises, tomorrows made

of backlit purple milk glass,

unformed and untested, yet

always I follow

the trail of crumbs

it drops for me.