With The New Dawn
By Sherry Bach copyright 2010

With the new dawn in spring, and the seeds that have fallen and died in the cold frozen soil, buried under layers of that over which they have no control, I wait.

I wait for the new birth, a new song, the refreshing that comes from the blossoms of brilliant colors falling on the eye of the one who planted.

The one who planted did so in anticipation; anticipation of joy and pleasure while gazing at the beauty of what his eyes will behold.

His eyes will behold the cold frozen ground covered over in layers of substance hiding the seed’s potential, that which lies below.

That which lies below is dead. How can that which is dead produce that which is alive? How can a dead seed transform into brilliant color?

Transformed into brilliant color from brown, gray, dead seeds, the planter does not question the process but witnesses the glory and believes because he sees.

The planter believes because he sees the cold frozen ground transformed time and time again into bright colors of blue, green, pink, purple, yellow and red.