Entering

 

We are now in the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox,

a time often called Imbolc. We stand in a season of quiet faith. Days are growing longer,

yet winter still surrounds us. Much of what we long for remains unseen. 

 

This threshold invites trust in nature’s cycles. 

 

I Trust is written from within this in‑between space, where warmth, color, and fragrance

live first in belief before they arrive in bloom. 

 

My poem is a gentle reminder that even though the landscape appears dormant,

Mother Nature is quietly stepping towards spring.

 

I Trust 

 

On this cold, dark morning,
when daisies, cosmos, and lilac are

nowhere to be seen,

I trust they will return this spring.

 

As I pull on my socks and sweater,

and wrap a scarf around my neck,

I trust the return of warm sunshine.

 

As the blades of grass lose their color,

and the goldfinch is no longer yellow,

 

I trust the brilliant hues of summer will return —
and in June, red roses will replace rose hips.

 

Here, in this empty house,
with the furnace singing its winter song,

I trust that the hum of the air conditioner

will return, or that open windows will once again
welcome a gentle breeze.

 

I trust that the glistening moon
will continue to shine,
even on the coldest of nights.

 

And I hear her whisper:

Life has its seasons.
Trust that with each beat of your heart,
you are closer to the scent
of honeysuckle and jasmine.