Hope is the thing with feather (dusters).
If you are oldish like me. Or you have spent a lot of time cleaning, you have probably used a feather duster.
I prefer those new-fangled dusters like Swiffer. It always seemed to me that all a feather duster did was move the dust around, although manufacturers swear that if you have a duster with ostrich feathers, the dust is efficiently captured in the feather parts, whatever those parts are called
You have to admit, though, that a feather duster is more lovely than a Swiffer duster, which is made of, I don't know, something plastic?
Nevertheless, how do they get the feathers? Do they kill the ostrich first, and then pluck the feathers? What do they do with the undesirable feathers? What do they do with the rest of the ostrich? Who are "they"?
It doesn't seem so pretty--in fact it seems downright sinister--if you think about the other "extraneous" ostrich parts.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops--at all
--Emily Dickinson
I've been thinking about perches--no, not the fish. (Pay attention. The theme is birds today.)
There is an efficient way to put things away, not just in closets and drawers, or bins and bags.
Hang stuff on the walls, or in other hanging places. Perhaps people don't like to do this, because then all your stuff is out there plain to see. And it will probably get dusty. (Feather duster!) Nevertheless, many of your things are very attractive, such as scarves, belts, jewelry, and hats. I also hang baskets on the walls. A single orphan earring. Or extra Christmas decorations, and lights, if you've already put your decorations away for the year, and then come upon two more under the couch where the cats have knocked them. The possibilities are infinite. (Well, not "infinite." It's just an expression. Anything could be infinite, I suppose, if you moved it around enough.)
Some will object. Walls are for hanging art. But stuff can be art, too. Extra keys strung together with yarn, colorful plates, tea cups, single earrings, pans and cooking implements, ribbons, socks clothes- pinned to a line. Quilts. (I take that back. Alice Walker would say--she did say in the short story "Things of Everyday Use"--that quilts need to be used. They need to be on beds. They need to cover you up and keep you warm and safe. Sherman Alexi would say that too, but quilts represent something much more complicated to him. His mother sometimes neglected him or was mean to him, but she was also an amazing quilter.)
Hope is the thing with feathers.
When your stuff finds a comfortable perch in your home, it is the manifestation of hope, not shame, no matter how much stuff is perched there. We are saving them, because we might need them someday. (Jimmy has six cars rusting in his yard because he is using them for parts.)
The perch is the quiet and still place. No fluttering of wings, at least momentarily. No demands. No "shoulds."
It sings the tune of possibility
Or even maybe
One day
And never stops--at all
(Thank you Emily Dickinson and all the poets that make this possible.)
I prefer those new-fangled dusters like Swiffer. It always seemed to me that all a feather duster did was move the dust around, although manufacturers swear that if you have a duster with ostrich feathers, the dust is efficiently captured in the feather parts, whatever those parts are called
You have to admit, though, that a feather duster is more lovely than a Swiffer duster, which is made of, I don't know, something plastic?
Nevertheless, how do they get the feathers? Do they kill the ostrich first, and then pluck the feathers? What do they do with the undesirable feathers? What do they do with the rest of the ostrich? Who are "they"?
It doesn't seem so pretty--in fact it seems downright sinister--if you think about the other "extraneous" ostrich parts.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops--at all
--Emily Dickinson
I've been thinking about perches--no, not the fish. (Pay attention. The theme is birds today.)
There is an efficient way to put things away, not just in closets and drawers, or bins and bags.
Hang stuff on the walls, or in other hanging places. Perhaps people don't like to do this, because then all your stuff is out there plain to see. And it will probably get dusty. (Feather duster!) Nevertheless, many of your things are very attractive, such as scarves, belts, jewelry, and hats. I also hang baskets on the walls. A single orphan earring. Or extra Christmas decorations, and lights, if you've already put your decorations away for the year, and then come upon two more under the couch where the cats have knocked them. The possibilities are infinite. (Well, not "infinite." It's just an expression. Anything could be infinite, I suppose, if you moved it around enough.)
Some will object. Walls are for hanging art. But stuff can be art, too. Extra keys strung together with yarn, colorful plates, tea cups, single earrings, pans and cooking implements, ribbons, socks clothes- pinned to a line. Quilts. (I take that back. Alice Walker would say--she did say in the short story "Things of Everyday Use"--that quilts need to be used. They need to be on beds. They need to cover you up and keep you warm and safe. Sherman Alexi would say that too, but quilts represent something much more complicated to him. His mother sometimes neglected him or was mean to him, but she was also an amazing quilter.)
Hope is the thing with feathers.
When your stuff finds a comfortable perch in your home, it is the manifestation of hope, not shame, no matter how much stuff is perched there. We are saving them, because we might need them someday. (Jimmy has six cars rusting in his yard because he is using them for parts.)
The perch is the quiet and still place. No fluttering of wings, at least momentarily. No demands. No "shoulds."
It sings the tune of possibility
Or even maybe
One day
And never stops--at all
(Thank you Emily Dickinson and all the poets that make this possible.)
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