springtime of doubt

as my frozen heart
thaws bit by bit,
and the brown lawn
carpeting my soul
begins to green,
they appear:

slowly
tenaciously
they push up
through the tangled
roots of my belief

their bright heads
dazzling in the light,
the softness of
their caresses
inviting me to pause
(just for a moment),
to lie down and
contemplate their beauty,
to stay in their midst
a little while longer;

then
you come along,
gathering them up
into your arms,
appearing a little
while later,
a luscious salad
tossed from their leaves,
the petals pressed
into a chardonnay
(with a hint of
of peace),
all placed on the Table

a part of the feast
you have prepared
for us.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman