For today, I selected Dickinson’s poem “Have you got a brook in your little heart,” a short poem of how “your little draught of life / Is daily drunken there.”
The lines do have a haunting and prophetic warning at the end, though, when – in August – “the meadows parching lie / Beware, lest this little brook of life / Some burning noon go dry!”
In a similar poem, a bird – symbolizing hope – perches in the soul. Instead of a drought drying up meadows, this poem mentions a storm “That could abash the little Bird / That kept so many warm.”
Is there a brook in your little heart? Does hope perch in your soul?