Nature’s Prophecy

Nature's wheel is turning
again. I see it on my
favorite walk, around
the old, nearby pond.

The gears are loud now—
stuck in that awkward
in-between place of
winter and spring.

The trees still stand naked
and ashamed. Grass remains
brittle and flowers fearfully
hide in the dirt.

Yet, I hear the animals
prophesying. Birds, in those trees,
singing of life. And turtles coming,
up from the dead, to see the sun.

Death and life coexist here.
In the “already, but not yet.”
I feel my cold depression
begin to bloom into a warm longing,

resting in the calls of these
creatures as they caw of life here
and the life to come. And I join
them with my own, “Maranatha.”