The return: a poem

Sometimes, good things happen.
Sometimes love wins over hate, 
Sometimes hope wins over fear. 
Some days the rain falls soft but steady,
Re-consecrating desecrated soil.
For all things, there is a season,
A time to sow and a time to reap.
Sharpened truth, the harvest scythe,
Cuts patterns in the dying grain.
A change, it seems, and none too soon;
A faith restored, returned, renewed.
The sun seemed to rise a bit brighter this morning,
The earth to breathe a bit easier,
The birds to sing that bit more joyful.
Maybe, just maybe, beyond our daring dreams,
Tomorrow may be better still.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on