I’ve watched the earth birth

life from death, from dirt

green from gray

flowers painting forest floors

the Trillium have returned

Tender needles pushing through—

out from the pine tree’s fingers

‍

me watching

rocking and thinking

breathing and blinking

‍

I’ve spent a lot of hours in this place—

observing and praying

sleeping and swaying

feet swishing over the boards

or on a chain above the floor

‍

This porch has become

my waiting place

‍

I control little—

nearly nothing at all.

So, I swing, and wait.

‍

while God marches on

in His predictable ways—

new life from old

when the time is just so,

babies from mothers

both sisters and brothers

‍

the rabbits and robins

tell stories that begin

with worms and wings

testimony to faithfulness unseen

‍

feelings I thought had died

are resurrected, retried

my mind is active again, alive

‍

This swaying swinging

dreaming and living

waiting and wanting

patience expanded—

I don’t understand it.

But I am here.

And You are with me.

Swinging,

whispering

singing.

‍

The day will come—

she will sit with me

we’ll throw our heads back

tears salted with laughter

together

at last.

‍