The butcher bird calls,
awake, a new day dawns
amidst the sleeping, cave driven hiding of Winter.
But life sleeps, rests, gains strength for Spring,
hope tickles and caresses, whispers and longs.
Hope, ever hope, love in a thousand faces,
moments and leaves, flowers, bugs, anything and everything:
a gift from You, Creator God, ultimate, ever embracing love.
I come slowly, weary at times
to your altar of Winter,
to your ever present, ever changing waiting arms.
Rest, like Winter, in my arms,
grow ever attune to my whisper,
hear it, listen for it deep within ….trust its tingle,
trust its tickle!
Spring will come and your new leaves will unfurl,
your flowers gift and your spirit respond
to the deep, inner urge to bow low,
to Namaste – to life and love and awe
the cobble stones of your sacred journey into love’s arms
and your deepest, truest self!