But I never expected to discover a vibrant community of women who care for and support one another. How does that happen, over the internet for goodness sake?
"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.
Emily Dickinson, 1861