we find it when the rain stops,

light comes through.                       yesterday morning

looked nice.



find it in the leaves scattered in piles waiting for the wind

to scatter



hope in the plane flying over

run out to see



i found hope in the mountains here

a home, a refuge plain



and simple things, the ordinary

become as sacred in our life

and brings a sort of hope



we can hold onto

cherish inside of us



without

there may be

nothing……..



small birds sing