not a clue, as usual

Peering thru a window

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Peering thru a window

Into the center of the old forsythia

That sits just outside the dining room window

I see life that struggles to lift itself out of the grays of winter

Blooms that hope the sun finds them in the tangle of its branches

I lift prayers up to God

Through the tangles of my life

Fragile flowers tentatively open

With praise for the sun

With love for the Son

Even though they’ve been hiding for so long.


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