Well, I still have a few hours, so I'm gonna post you all a poem anyway! This is an Emily Dickinson poem whose cadence of the first lines stays with me always. I dedicate it to Lisa at Laughing Orca Ranch, and to anyone who's planting anything this spring.
Here's wishing you all a Friday filled with hope!
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--
And, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.