”... darkness always harbors some bit of goodness tucked out of sight, waiting for an expected light to shine, to reveal it in its deepest hiding place.”
- from Late Migrations, by Margaret Renkl, p.186
It's like pockets you put your hands into and dig around for keys and come up with coins for the wishing well outside
or
like sounds you hear when you wake and listen for the night and the moon's quiet glistening across morning sky
or
like hope you hold to in your heart when things are falling apart but you know tomorrow's merely a day away