I open my mouth to ask for more facts and specifics. I find them reassuring. The poem comes back to me. “Hope” is the thing with feathers. I close my mouth. For the second time today I’m letting go of the details. Maybe I don’t need them. It would be so nice to let someone else take over this burden for a little while. “Hope” is the thing with feathers. I feel it fluttering in my heart.
