Look To This Day
Look to this day—a faith-borne call,
A cyclic script for one and all.
The seasons march in solemn pace,
yet cloud messages leaves no trace.

Upon the grove, the recluse wakes,
A breeze through budding branches breaks.
Spring stirs with trembling, fragrant breath—
A birth ignites, defying death.

The infant of the recluse grows
homeless born and yet she knows
value is writ in the cloudless sky
time unfolds as she wanders by.

She picks the fruit from off the groves
she wears a smile and wears worn clothes
and dreams of love to come in time
and in late spring sings made-up rhymes.

Gleeful message, like clouds unfurled,
Proclaims the joy that wakes her world.
The nascency of her grace grew,
A thousand blossoms breaking through.

Then summer sings its golden psalms,
A bride adorned in jasmine balms.
Espousals gild the verdant glen,
clouded hopes writ in skies again.

Florals she grows and fruit she bears
in summer sun through all the years
under cloudless skies and sunshine
she sings lullaby’s and her rhymes.

Pre-autumn, children grow in fields,
Determined fruits begin to yield.
A mother’s tear, a somber tune—
as she laments the waning moon.

In autumn’s heart, the crimson leaf
Is shadowed by a deeper grief.
A lawn awash in amber light,
as she recalls past love’s delight.

Pre-winter stirs across the plain,
A barren stretch, a silent strain.
The cloud reflects the fading spark,
The world prepared for growing dark.

Winter descends on ashen feet,
The wind laments along the street.
Government glows with distant flame,
A war-child born in thunder’s name.

and with that birth, love meets its end—
Death to mourn, while no birth can mend.
Though times for tenderness is cast
in shadows of the seasons past.

For hopes will rise and skies will clear,
The cycle spins, both far and near.
Look to this day, the endless turn—
in spring, faith, grace and hope return.