The world is cold today. The sky is the gray of old modeling clay Mrs. Mason used to grudgingly let us play with during recess. I am weary of winter and wish for bright sunny skies, spring flowers, and green grass. I know it is coming and that it can’t be far away. Spring always come when we almost lose hold of hope. Spring with evening rains, tree frog choruses, air that smells like damp dirt, moldy leaves, and old water.
I am anxious for the coming of the little breeze from the south that sings though he has no mouth. That breeze brings warm air and clear skies and makes the tulips, iris, and daffodils pop up like miracles from the ground.
Help me to hold out, God, to wait and be patient for the spring to come.
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