“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”
Emily Dickinson

Hold tight to it, demand of it and Hope, elusive, slips away. Like a bird in a cage, without freedom its colors fade.

Given fresh air, Hope resonates.

Hope is wild. It thrives in its natural habitat.

Hope sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Hope can’t be told what to do, or how to do it.

Hope is rebellious, disruptive and out of control.

Hope is unruly.