• Glorious

    Wednesday, May 8, 2013

    I have seen green, so vibrant.
    Blossoms floating as a dream on spring’s softest breeze.
    I have caught glimpses of a new season through pictures
    The west has woken and in the far off east,
    But us
    Here in the middle of this Northern Land

    Must wait
    This is another of my lessons in patients,
    Not to hurry seasons on.

    The cold still clings, yet I yearn for more,
    To inhale slowly the warmth wafting through the forest
    I hush, listening for the song birds’ return,
    Eagerly I hope  for sight of a robin’s blazon crest.
    Search for shoots,
    Promises of a thousand hues.

    I feel like Noah,
    Praying for solid beneath a season of tossing.

    I say it to my girls; whisper it behind their veil of locks
    The way Noah coed it to a dove,
    ‘Bring me hope’
    Nothing came of my rushed desire.
    I watched mornings rise over winter long into springs season.

      Until one morning

    I washed and stored winter’s clothing the day I brought out sleeveless dresses of lights and whites
    and my little ones ran barefooted over meadows full of life.

    It all happened in a moment
    The familiar
    By the sweeping steady of a God whose rhythm is