Hope

Opal fires live in the center of my soul,
burning cool like sunlight on grapes.
In the blue of the fires, lives hope.
I do not nuture it, for it feeds on life;
the ribbons of clouds waving,
angels sighing over newborn lambs.

With every passing sigh, I sing hope,
the colors of my soul reflected in opal.
My world burns bright in its fires,
the ribbons of clouds woven overhead.
There is good in this troubled world,
the wheat of many dreams baked golden.

As long as opal fires burn in my soul,
as long as clouds weave rainbows and
lambs sigh angelic under golden light,
I will sing hope, the warm glow of grapes
dreaming of wine and the wheat of life
reaping the glory of love saying, "Believe."