The Promise of Spring
. In the fall, parchment leaves were windswept around the double doors. Taking a breath, I pulled one open and entered the brick building. I sat in the waiting area—surrounded by pictures of babies, pregnant women whose hands were cups protectively
A Light From The Shadows Shall Spring
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost, The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring, Renewed shall