When I look out my window
And I see fresh snow
I wonder when, and where is spring.
But, to every season
And for all, I know
There is a right time
For all that blooms has yet to open.
Maybe not now: they are but buds,
But nurtured they will grow,
And with that they promise
That spring is here,
The season will blossom,
And the time is right
For my lilies to bloom.
_______________
Joyce E. Johnson – 2013
