Watching the clouds
from my back porch
sailing across the steel sky.
I wonder where could they be going?
A nightbird is singing goodnight
to the morning and the honeysuckle
lays heavy on the air.
I realize that spring is not coming.
I have been watching and waiting
and she has been on her way
and yet
here she is and
she is not spring at all
she is summer.
Like those racing clouds
all in a constant state
of movement
even when I cannot see.
I wonder if the changing seasons
are God’s way of trying to teach me
this lesson over and over,
That the only constant
besides Him, is change.
He is always creating.
I say goodbye to winter
as spring moves in
and the glory of summer.
Crucifixion comes before
the season whispers.