Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Recently I found an empty nest that had been placed with great care, attention and respect on a bench. It was starting to rain. I left the nest and continued walking. When I circled back, the nest had not been claimed. I placed it under the bench protecting it from the rain. Later that day I drove back to see if it had been claimed…it was still there.
I made a home for the empty nest in my studio. After imagining all the possible ways to use it in art… assemblage, painted gold, preserved in wax… the empty nest seemed to want to just be. So I left it as is. In a process of becoming something else. And simply looking at this empty nest (made by an expert nest maker) inspired the making of some new work.
Nest=making, process, building, weaving, finding, leaving and returning, egg, growth, decay, growth, cycle, lost, found, circle, center, transitional space, impermanence, nurture, comfort, protection, safety, hope = Home
“Hope” you enjoy this link to Claire Danes reading and a signing by Rachel, age 9. Rachel’s hands capture and embody this poem in such a beautiful and moving way.