Hurricane Sandy. The coverage of coastal New Jersey and areas of New York City and Long Island is shocking. I'm watching it unfold with everyone else and waiting to hear from friends and loved ones in those areas.
For the words I can't seem to find right now, Emily Dickinson provides:
"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."