Spring Time Hope

It's Autumn here in S.A. and while I wrote this poem some seasons ago, it's the hope for a season of Spring after a period of desolation. It's as applicable as it was then, the hope for Spring..

                                

                          Spring Time Hope

A little boy in a red cape rides fiercely through the green wood park, while his father watches from the hilltop above. A familiar, grey haired man in a Stetson dawdles his daily walk, while somewhere on the grassy patch young men laugh and play while a man lost in time walks his dog on the green, unleashed. From the terrace above I watch this scene. 

To my left the ocean smiles quietly while a gentle breeze moves the dotted clouds on the horizon, this is the promise of spring time. The flowers bloom and with it the oceans ebb and flow with hope, dusting itself off after a wintery sleep, a hope that I have barely seen or felt for a season’s length, where has it been? The caped boy and his father leave the green; the young men are quiet and tired, the park is still. I watch the scene from the terrace above and nurture this spring time hope, dusting itself from a wintery sleep.