Not Yet




Tall trees create morning shadows on a sleepy Saturday,
Waking, yawning, and stretching leafless limbs in the sun,
As rays climb their backs massaging away winter’s chill bumps.

A mockingbird fills the breeze with a harmony of persistence,
Calling, calling, waiting, and longing for another,
Still calling, calling, waiting, longing, for spring to answer.

Behind the lines

What have you waited for and finally received? What joy did it bring?

Are you still waiting?

May we long for the Savior’s return.


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