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Hope Springs



There's a change blowing in,

a different direction than I've ever seen.

Not from the East

where snowdrifts are on a meltslide

nor from the West

where raindrenched landslides collide

Not coming from the North

even though the cold still takes it toll

nor even the South

where plain trails dust in tumbleweed cover

and certainly not, Coming in

floating on a whispered cloud.



The eye of the storm passes

and this soul's conviction

remains the same

even in the vain of striking it rich

with Fool's Gold.

I believed in her rainbows,

The vanity of her fair

pure as driven snow,

but winter sure is cold.



My mind torn from dream to reality,

Frozen fear succumbing to the insight

that change twirls in the wind

but maybe

just maybe,

In the end,

Hope will find its way

in the spring of a new season.