Winter Gowns

I like to tune my heart to the sun, moon and stars. Our ambitions are reaching there anyway with our towering buildings and feats of imagination.

When the last building has come tumbling down, our listening will echo through time, as well the voice from the same source, and the credits will roll on like a never-ending story.

By grace, I am still standing here, sparsely clad like winter gowns on quiet trees, who have said not a word or shivered in their naked repose, just stood there elegantly in their humble dignity, drawing warmth from the center of the earth.

When Hope is as naked as those branches, wondering if it has been eclipsed, or retreated from the front lines, I know the birds will still sing. I believe I am trying to be a tree, who has seen the elephants in the room, as well the seasons, knowing the birds have always been the true mouthpiece. They know Hope - how to see, and how to turn things into song.