After my sweet mom died, I made this shadow box for my heartbroken father. (These are paper doves, not stuffed!) Together, Mom and Dad had always enjoyed the sweet sound of mourning doves and kept their bird and squirrel feeders full. Now, my parents live together in a softer place.
The poem is Emily Dickinson’s:
Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches on the soul
and sings a tune
without the words
and never stops at all.
For this coming new year, my wish for all of you is to feel the love, peace, joy and hope in the soft tickles of feathers.