Another day was drawing to a close, and for a short while the West Highland sky turned a colour rarely seen during this dismally dark and gloomy winter. But each day now was noticeably longer and brighter than the last, and when Algy gazed at the beautiful blue above him, and watched the world turn once again as the light slowly faded, he thought of the coming spring and felt a new surge of hope – so he sang the tune without the words, to send to all his friends, at home and abroad 🙂

“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 –

[Algy is quoting the first two verses of the poem “Hope” is the thing with feathers by the 19th century American poet Emily Dickinson.]

adventuresofalgy:

Algy was appalled and dreadfully saddened by the awful events in Paris last night. He quickly turned himself into a Tricolor fluffy bird, and perched beside a calm, silent pool, thinking of everyone suffering in France and elsewhere as a result of human violence.

Algy is thinking especially of his dear friends in Paris today, and in these dark and dreadful hours he sings this famous poem by Emily Dickinson for you, and says please do not let go of hope. Algy is praying a fluffy bird prayer for you all today, and for peace xoxo

“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 –

[Algy is quoting the first two stanzas of the poem “Hope” is the thing with feathers by the 19th century American poet Emily Dickinson.]

Algy is so terribly sad to have to reblog this image – which he had hoped never to have to use again after the awful attacks in Paris in November 2015 – but to his dismay, the horror continues…

He sends his fluffiest hugs to his dear friends in France, especially those on the Côte d’Azure, and to all his friends around the world who long for peace xoxoxo

It was a mild, bright sort of day for November, so Algy set out in search of new adventures while the sun was still warm. There were strange patterns on the sea at the Horseshoe Bay, whipped up by the wind that was whistling sharply through Algy’s hair, and so he tucked himself tightly into a patch of dead bracken leaves for shelter. Algy was still thinking of the terrible tragedy on the other side of the world, and of how lucky he was to be sitting safely in such a beautiful place on a lovely day. There was very little that a small fluffy bird could do for the devastated people of the Philippines except send them a message of hope, and so he thought of a poem by Emily Dickinson:

          “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 –

[Algy is quoting the first two verses of Emily Dickinson’s poem “Hope” is the thing with feathers.]