Newborn leaves
shouting a flamboyant green
unfurl from bare branches.
Spring! it all cries,
jubilant to be alive.
The rhythm
of the seasons
bringing dead things to life.
Hope realized
in physical matter.
A testament to faithfulness.
And I wonder,
is the sap of creation
flowing in me?
Or am I stuck in winter's slumber yet,
routine blinding me
from new life?
Somedays I feel
more like an old tree,
my sap sluggish,
my branches bare.
Nothing helpful or beautiful
to think or share.
Emotions and ideas resting still,
stale and dull.
But then I hear
the song of birds,
feel a warm breeze
and the sun on my face.
And my spirit stirs,
hope sprouts,
and new creation
simmers.
New creation:
a promise
and a fact.
As surely as I can walk
outside
and touch, see and smell
new life,
I also know it's in me,
a dead thing brought to life.
I am a new creation.
Hope realized
in spiritual matter.
A testament
to faithfulness.
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