Encouragement

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Until Then, My Friend

(Dedicated to two of my dearest friends, Lynn and Sherry. I sure love you two, Treava)

A blazing sun stretches
over the mountaintops
and hugs the peaks of white.
It leaves a blanket of warmth,
but doesn’t last through the night.
Over and over and ...
waking in early dawn,
so many times it climbs
to wink at the mountains
‘til in fullness of heat it shines.

One day, when it’s risen
often enough, and when
its blaze has kissed the snow,
the hardened peaks will melt
and the streams will overflow.
Oh, they’ll run and they’ll run.
With fierce passion they’ll run.
They’ll race to find they’re strength.
They’ll sparkle in the sun,
so little depth, but endless length.

They’ll run to the valleys.
They’ll play upon the sands
and turn the fields to green.
Can you hear the whispers --
the birdsongs’ promise of spring?
Selfless cry emerges,
“How does this hint of hope
find roots in hardened ground?”
Seasons change. They always change.
Though they never utter a sound.

You just wake up one day,
when night unfolds morning
and the sun stretches wide,
in so-soft beds of clover
with your friends still at your side,
their tender hearts abloom,
no judgment in their stems,
dancing to spring’s wind song.
To the silent songs they sway
until you find the winter gone.

And when those streams have met
to gather at the bank
where surging waters run,
where turtles nap on logs,
basking in the morning sun,
I’ll meet you there, my friend.
Together we will sit
and soak our feet a while,
in clear, refreshing water,
until I’ve seen your knowing smile.
© Joyce Pool

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