Changing Seasons.jpg

(Photo: Seasons, Erin Kress, 2016)

There is an imaginary battle that may grip our hearts at some point on the journey

This battle is waged near the Gate
That leads to newborn blossoms and the sweet nectar of Spring

Its squeaky hinges whisper ever so quietly,

“Unfolding in the midst of tragedy is your great blessing.”

Even though the pressed soil, the oaks who stretch tall and wide after a long winter slumber,
And the colorful lilies who dance beneath the sun— don’t suggest we go looking for misfortune along grainy riverbeds

They do tell us timeless stories

All that seem to, in their own words, say:

“Once difficulty has truly had its way with you

No sleep is ever quite tranquilizing enough

You will not again completely forget how to find

The polished jewel of yourself

On the bank where you first began."