Hope is a childhood’s whisper

Can you hear the whispers
of childhood dreams and days?
Remembering those threadbare thrills
And the hopes of yesterdays?
When the winter is around you
And it clutches upon your heart
Find comfort in those sweet old ways,
Like a pilgrim to dreamers’ trysting-place.
Where your soul can dance beyond the harbor bar
To where the untroubled, shining waters are
And you can, in resurrection’s bashful glory,
Start again on your life’s untold story.

The road to Heaven

The road to Heaven is
The old country road
I walked every day as a little girl.
The dandelions, the weeds,
the dragonflies.
Morning light through
Kitchen windows.
A secret triumph and a song
Through silvered forest.
Two sets of rubber boots
Wading through feather-light
New snow.
And I follow obediently
The course of the autumn
Leaves
Without even asking
Who is calling me up there,
Perhaps it is just granny
Telling me that the pancakes
Are ready.