The Real Hope


“The real hope is not in something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see.” Thomas Merton

Spring proceeds,
despite the cold
Pacific winds.

Storms that should have
blown through months ago,
now come lately,
blustering that late is better
than not at all,
and gather clouds, complaining of the hour;
they huddle and decide to get it over with
all in a day, and squeeze
fountains out of the
heavy April air.

This is the moment!

At last the iris arises,
sleek, and slender, and plain
curvaceous head,
concealing glory

‘til rain all finished,
the sun having drenched
time and emerald space
with his golden flame,

the flower unfurls,
and stirs to nectarine passion
courteous bees, and
lingering birds.


One thought on “The Real Hope

  1. Steven, the irises, in the form of two purple and one white, have made their appearance in Continental Divide too. Ethel spotted them yesterday, and I was taken outside and shown them today. We also have bees, though they have been around for some time. The birds never leave, though the hummingbirds have shown up recently and are having aerial bomb diving battles over Ethel’s feeders.
    Spring has been cold here too, but, miraculously, it looks like we might have lilacs this year. This is a rarity in mountain country, and the apple blossoms are coming out too–so maybe our trees will bear fruit.
    I fully believe in good and that good, as Merton says, is not something we humans do, but something that is working in the universe toward a continuance and a glory that we cannot see.
    This is such a good poem–as usual. I am glad to know of you, my friend, and your work.

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