Ack. As if getting a verb yesterday wasn’t bad enough, today’s prompt had to be an abstraction. I mean — really? What are the options? There’s always the stand-by of Pandora’s box/jar; the potter could be throwing the container for the legendary woman who supposedly was endowed with all the gifts necessary to make a perfect woman. But I dislike the misogyny of the story.
Then there’s Emily Dickinson’s famous poem that seems to show up on home decoration plaques everywhere these days:
“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 BirdThat 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.¹
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.ruthfeiertag.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/IMG_9893.jpeg?resize=322%2C429)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.ruthfeiertag.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/83F26797-72C6-436A-A79E-932473A3798A-e1603117339312-235x300.jpeg?resize=667%2C851)
![](https://i1.wp.com/www.ruthfeiertag.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/941100E9-6C4E-488B-B5CA-D16315E4C178-e1603117562953-300x284.jpeg?resize=300%2C284)