From the fog of sleep
I heard the dirge
drift over Earth’s fair clime.
Make haste, sweet Spring,
to warm this land;
burst forth with bloom
of waiting seeds.
Raise us from the grip
of death that lingers
like a pall.
Seasons come
and seasons pass.
Each has its joys
and cares. But you,
sweet Spring, bring
hope again
with every bud
that bears.

6 thoughts on “Renascence

  1. Dear Sarah,
    Such a beautiful spring poem.
    Yes I agree , Spring is the season of hope indeed when all start to bloom again.
    It’s my favorite season.
    Be well, my dear friend. ❤

    Love, Francina

    1. Dear Francina,

      Thank you! I am so ready for the bloom. It seems the birds are too. They start singing at 4:30 AM and keep it up for as long as I’m awake. I’m thinking they take shifts so we humans are blessed with constant song. It will be grand to see the flowers join in the scene!

      Hugs to you, ❤

  2. BoardFlak

    When gloom is deepest, a point of hope shines its brightest. Each time you step out your door, pick a blossom of hope and tuck it in your hair for the day. And have no fear, as long as you have the faith to look for it hope will always be waiting.

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