The light has come.
The sun slowly rising into a canopy of blue casting its golden rays
on ancient cypress and native pine.
A heron stands at attention
waiting to salute the day.
A blackbird shouts a hearty welcome
stirring slumbering girls with its raucousness.
And I wait and watch for the light
to penetrate the darkness,
to reach places I cannot see,
yet I believe are here.
I wait and watch knowing
that light will come again.
Florence Brooks 