Window
Hope makes itself every day
springs up from the tiniest places
No one gives it to us
we just notice it
quiet in the small moment
The two-year-old
“kissing the window” he said
because someone he loved
was out there
I saw this poem recently on Instagram, and loved the image of quiet, stubborn hope (and that two-year-old). Shihab Nye’s work is always luminous, and worth reading.
April is National Poetry Month, and I am sharing poetry – with an emphasis on women – on Fridays here this month, as I do every year.
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