Saturday, April 5, 2014

Emily's second tribute to National Poetry Month

“Hope" is the thing with feathers—
by Emily Dickins
Chickens are things with feathers
that perch inside the pen
and ruffle so enticingly—
I cannot get at them
And sweetest are the eggs they lay--
if Mom gives them to me
I can be happy all the day
and hope for more or plead--
If only I were free to try--
I’d love to catch a hen--
I’d pace for hours around the pen
with hope of getting in.

You can find the original poem here.


  1. You are a fabulous poet for one so young, Emily! We hope you get more eggs!

    Love ya lots♥
    Mitch and Molly

  2. Oh Emily, I don't knows how you stand it!!!! I wouldn't be ables to contain myself!
    I do LOVES your poem ~ you are living up to your namesake fursure!!
    Now, did someone say eggs????
    Ruby ♥