Daffodils peek, butter bright, February whispers winter’s bite. Sunlight teases, warms the ground, Then frost returns without a sound. Tender shoots in yellow cheer, Hesitate: Spring is not yet here. Copyright Anne Hendricks, M.Ed. #Meccanjourney #spring #winter #poems

The young man speaks of light and grace, A smile across his unlined face. "I think all men are good," he cries, With Anne Frank’s hope within his eyes. The skeptic feels the winter chill, And keeps his weathered spirit still. "You claim to know the inner soul, To see the part and grasp the whole. But acatalepsy is the truth, A lesson hidden from your youth. The human heart is never clear, It’s masked by pride and veiled by fear. You cannot grasp the hidden mind, Or know the

My heart keeps its vigil in the white silence of winter, measuring the miles between us with the steady beat of hope. I still hear the ghost of your laughter— it catches my tears before they fall. I am waiting for the thaw, for the day the distance dissolves  I can finally hold you close again. #nocontact #love #poems