By cherry blossoms,
 
though they be but year-end dreams,
 
my hope is renewed.

 
 
 

Holy Saturday—
 
I search the Psalms and Prophets
 
for one word of hope.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
how many more Christmases
 
can I hope to see?

Blossom

 
 
 

searching with hope
 
for the first plum blossom
 
while snow still falls

Valley

 
 

deep in Adam’s chest
 
the valley of the shadow
 
laying waste his hope

Escape

 
 
 

From Pandora’s box
 
everything escaped but hope—
 
even fortitude.

Traces

 
 
 

last traces of snow
 
cradling backdoor crocuses
 
the scriptures of hope