By Lisa Huddleston
Frog songs in soggy bogs
spot the road from the city to
my country home
Spring is coming and
daffodil exclamation points
dot the cow fields with yellow
shouts of joy
I see and hear the signs with
anticipation that
borders on pain
The last few weeks of
winter grey loom large
and threaten to blind my eyes
and stop my ears
Don’t look
Don’t listen
Never see nor hear
Yet spring is coming and
hope is not hopeless
The signs are not in vain
Burning bushes
Pillars of both fire and cloud
Manger-tucked babes with
stars in dark skies
My eyes will yet see
My ears will yet hear
the whisper as well as the thunder
of God