Every tight little bud
A promise.
A protective shell
from the harsh winter.
Even though the trees appear
to be shedding and letting go,
They are preparing
and abundantly so.
For the glorious spring
That has yet to come.
Tag: promise
Birdsong
Even when it’s all been sung the birds sing their song They greet the day with a song in their heart. Even with the great sorrow, The grief, the rumination The birds sing their song. There is hope and courage in their tune, if I just stop I can feel it. Not an urgency, but a faith a promise that this day brings. So sing their song they must and they faithfully do. I count on their song even when it’s all been sung.