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