On days like this, where it seems my hope is running low,
like fuel in a tank
with no places to go,
cinder blocks, in prison cells start to blow
working out the kinks down in my soul
Hope is for the featherless
no tethering ring pole,
sowing seeds of hope
germinating little
pods of things unseen
Hope for the family
every sister, every brother
every cousin, every mother
Hope for the growing up
Hope for the growing old
Hope springing out like lavender – wonders to unfold
Hope ripples out like waterfalls reaching into soul,
grander church bells, she even sings her chimes
Spring in the air,
Spring is in the air, its’ time!
your Kindness sister Krissy
A Poet's Vision 