Here's a poem by Emily Dickinson that addresses something we all need - hope! May we remember that "the little Bird" does exist!
"Hope" is the thing with feathers-
That perches in the soul-
And sings the tunes 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.