There's a spot
on this road
to pre-school
that is FULL of
countless, amazing, beautiful flowers
in the spring.

But it's winter.

I drive past it
half a dozen times each week.

And I see it.
The emptiness,
the barrenness of the garden.

And it looks just like any other yard
covered in dead, brown leaves.


But I remember the harvest.

I long for spring
when all will be made new again.

And I have hope
that it will blossom again.

I declare that promise
and await the bounty of beauty.

photo by Hubs