I’ve wanted for a while to add a small Buddha to Aaron’s Garden. Did that today, and Lisa B, when I went to place it, a feather waited in its spot for you.
“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.
Oh Becky, he has left me so many white feathers in the past in the oddest places. I love the picture and the love that the feather represents . I am sure that he was letting you know how much he loves the Buddha in his garden. Thank you
I think I told you once–maybe–the oddest place I ever found a white feather. I flipped open my gas tank door to get gas, and there was a white feather nestled next to the gas cap. How does that even happen?
I think of you, David, and Aaron every time, and then blow the feather away to continue its journey.
🙂