Thursday, March 24, 2011

hope.

There is a wind that blows through you like a sharp slap to the face.
The lights glisten off the ice covered pavement.
You listen for a hint of sound floating through the air.
But the silence is almost louder that a room full of people screaming at the top of their lungs.
You count the houses. 5, 6, 7, 8.. as you walk down the street.. is there anyone out there?
Your hoping to see it.
To catch a better glimpse.
Your hopes soar as you look to the sky..
Soon.. god's little dancing angels start to dance on high..
Eyes locked in.. mesmerized by the sight.
Of a small bit of hope dancing through the night.



4 comments:

  1. i love your poem and the beautiful picture!

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  2. On my bucket list: living in Alaska for a year, so I can really experience this. All I've seen of Alaska is the inside passage from a too-brightly-lit boat. It was a great trip, but I'm pretty sure it didn't have much to do with Alaska. :)

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  3. "Soon God's little dancing angels start to dance on high" I love that image! So beautiful...and your picture illustrates it perfectly.
    Thanks for sharing!
    Stopping by from Mama Kat's

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  4. I thought you were going to talk about hoping for warmer weather!

    Stopping by from writer's workshop. Here's links to ours:
    http://zemeks.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-we-make-each-other-crazy-writers.html and http://karenzemek.blogspot.com/2011/03/memorable-neighbor-who-scared-us-away.html

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