The Whisper of Hope. It is there.
It’s the finch scratching at the snow for that one seed that fell.
It’s the moon peeking out from the clouds with a smile.
It’s the flower, out-of-season, turning its face to the sun.
It’s your favorite song that plays when you turn the radio on.
It’s the touch of fur in the morning when you wake.
We will step. We may stumble.
Don’t lose hope. Look for the Whisper.
Two posts in two days – how prolific.
Did you write the poem? I especially like the “touch of fur in the morning”. But please don’t tell my wife.
Yup written this morning. After a day like yesterday, sheesh. Trying to find some light.