The Substance of Things Hoped For...

The substance of things hoped for in the budded brogue of spring

Reveals its evidence in recompense of bronze and gold

The death of summer-long lies buried in September’s sting

Of rainbow-colored gardens spawned from small seed’s thunderous hold

The landscape is a picture of harvest half-gathered in

Where seed and deed have much in common; what we plant we reap

And we cannot afford to ignore harvest-heavy skin

Its mortal mist of Moment hinges to Unfathomed Deep

The faith we plant among the thorn and scorn of disbelief

Like seeds will, without fail prove what is good and pure and true

The substance of things hoped for in this life of strife and grief

Abides in spite of time’s much mulled and unexplained ado

Then pray, the purpose of our push and pull and heave and groan

With all its brief appointments of present soon ever-past

Is for far more than avatars of crumbling skin and bone

But Substance of things hoped for before Evidence at last

© Janet Martin

 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Heb.11:1