Hope... For You And Lublin Church For M And Laura..Because Now They Know Poem by r james sterzinger

Hope... for You and Lublin Church


the empty arms of midnight
offer no promise.
little does,
except the things
you may put hope into.

even a basket for the eggs.
you may put the browns
next to the whites,
but there is no guarantee
that you will make it
from the yard to the kitchen,
without breaking one or two.

the tomatoes in the yard
for instance,
their skins are bright green,
their bodies round, solid
by the time they turn red
the worms, the canker
may get to them
and you will have to
pitch then in the manure pile.
there the flies will have them
for dinner,
but never you.

the hay in the field,
may burn to stubble
without rain.
the hay in the field may mold
with too much rain,
either way you are left with dust.

weasels have gotten
to the chickens before,
with one or two
dead in the morning,
the perfect new calf
lies broken it the straw
last night one of the cows broke her chain
and stepped on his back.

in the hog barn
we always lose
two or three.
some get laid on,
some get bitten,
some are just runts:
it's to be expected.

so where do we place our hope
on the farm?
we place it in a God
we do not see,
we place it in each other.

this is the place I have come from,
though I have moved far
from farm and family
and even faith sometimes.

still, I do
I place my faith in the God
who I do not see
and in you
who I do see
and your smile
at me
on Sunday mornings

there is no guarantee
there will be more than that.
but your smile,
and my foolish notion of God,
gives me hope,
that there will be.