It’s late February and
The birds are coming home.
Daylight is longer
And the breezes carry the scent
Of a vague
Hope
Of Spring.
Tempers flare with flames born
Of too many long nights,
Dark days,
Bitter winds.
And now we can only
Hope
For Spring.
Holy Spirit,
Quench our fires of mistrust and restlessness
With your waters of
Patience and gentleness
And grow our
Hope
Of the new life
Of Spring.
Amen.
Reblogged this on Michael Moore's Blog and commented:
Beautiful and heartfelt! Thank you, Nancie…
You’re welcome–thanks for the reblog😊