Hope & Joy

Hope is Growing

Hope is growing
in a tiny spot
near an oak tree
on my mountain lot.
Where squirrels climb
on redbud
and dogwood trees
and leave acorns
to grow in dark, rich loam,
under Fall’s strewn leaves.

Weathering silently
through winter’s endless frost,
Hope rests uneasy
beneath granite rock.
But even with
such saddened start,
Hope grows.

From a tiny seed,
buried cold
and damp,
beneath dark
grey clouds
of sorrow
and lost beginnings,
Hope still stirs—
nurtured only
by sunless rain
and quiet snow.

But, with time,
Hope grows—
via sun-warmed springs
and summer heat,
to displace the doubt
from winter’s frozen sheet.

Hope is The Essence of God

Hope is the essence of God.
A belief greater than just in yourself
or in anyone you could come to know.
Hope is the belief that the cosmic plan
will see your fulfillment someday,
in some way,
whether riches
are measured in gold
or in smiles,
in your pocket
or just
your heart.

Hope is the reincarnation of love,
The joy of a better tomorrow,
the cure for an unknown sickness,
the food to nurture a starving baby
or an absent mind,
the beginning of joy,
and the end of pain.

Hope is a beat up pick-up truck
--a hundred years old--
sitting in tall weeds
on a vacant farm lot
in West Virginia
while a slow-eyed schoolboy
counts out his hard earned cash
into the calloused hands
of an old farmer
glad to be rid of it
and satisfied
he received enough
money for propane
to keep his tin-roofed house
warm during
the cruel mountain winter ahead.

Just as satisfied that each made a good deal,
they load the junker
onto the boy’s uncle’s flat bed truck,
destined for a front yard workshop
and a future as his speedy chariot
for going to games,
out with his friends
and to church—
to sing in the choir
with his girlfriend—
when he gets one.

Hope is a bloodworm
wriggling
on the small hook
of a grandchild
sitting beside her grandpa,
their legs dangling
over a swiftly flowing creek,
their strings floating
on the glistening surface,
his hand
on her shoulder,
his dreams for her…
tucked proudly
in his heart.

Hope is A One-Pound Loss

Hope is a one-pound loss
on the first day
of a new diet.

Joy is Getting Up In the Morning

Joy is getting up in the morning
and getting out of bed.
A new day.
The sun rising without a cloud
and the previous
night’s storm gone.
Sweet bird songs replacing
horrific claps of thunder
amid slashes of white lightning and
the constant staccato of hail.

Joy is a beautiful new day
and the spark
of new adventures
each fresh moment brings.