Hope wears an itchy sweater

with holes in the elbows,

rinses returnable bottles,

finds comfort in the rhythm

of the clothes dryer.

Hope belts out its plea,

hitting the high notes

rounding the Chicopee bend

on 91 South.

Hope turns on a dime

or the ten bucks it thought

was stashed in its wallet.

Hope sighs and slouches,

gives trigger warnings,

sits out arguments.

Hope pretends.

….

from Compass Roads: Poems about the Pioneer Valley

edited by Jane Yolen, published by Straw Dogs Guild