If you just scan the headlines of my life,
you'll think I'm delusional.
What in the world would make me think
there's any hope?

Calloused hearts, empty stomachs, aimless souls.
Tail-gaters, back-stabbers, nay-sayers.
It seems that civility
has become a casualty.
Human is no longer
the standard state of being.

Yet I know the truth about troubles.
It's the wind, the rain, the compost of life,
that give rise to a
blooming thing of beauty.

Sustain me through these times of trial.
From seedling to morning glory,
bursting from the ground,
reaching toward the sun.
Hope springs eternal.