this could be the last spring, he said,
404 afternoons ago.
today i saw him examining
the lily of the valley
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it’s perfectly clear
it’s perfectly clear right now,
says the weather report
with a sunny optimism.
not the end.
it is finished. and
because He lives, that means
this is not the end.
the first tulip bloomed today,
golden as butter,
and i wished i could show you
its delicately frilled petals
after the end
it is finished. what’s
the use of words now, Jesus?
silently, tears fall.
keep watch
yet to come will be the weeping;
let all mortal flesh keep silence
and keep watch.
mori
people die, as sure as they are born
yet the reality always shocks with a start
i wish you could show me the spring
i wish you could show me the spring —
wildflowers waking up on the creek bank,
catkins greening at the slender ends of oak branches
palms
sunday, and the children wave their palms
with excited eyes and spreading smiles.
palm branches! palm branches! they shout.
prayer like sparks
prayer
like
sparks.