We listen to the voice
that says grass and stars
the voice that knows perfectly
how to describe luminescence.
We wait patiently on
the foothold of March
to see early crocus
and daffodils pushing
through earth’s cold skin.
We remember soft slippers
await us at the foot of the bed.
The moon and sun rise again
and again in the eternal blanket of heaven
as we apply balm to wounds
and salve to worn skin.
We know in our hearts
the universe has cycles
unknown and known.
We trust the voice of goodness
and grace to prevail when our hopes
falter then rise again like high tide.
–margaret roncone
