Poems From The Porch
A multitude of blackbirds just flew by the window,
and again, in waves, they glide and swoop.
They are hopeful and trusting that, if they fly together,
they will reach their destination.
Hope is active,
adjusts to circumstances,
follows gut instincts,
chooses accordingly with eyes on Love,
not focusing on adversity.
Expectation is stagnant,
inflexible in situations,
assumes one right way,
and is disappointed when things don’t play out like they “should.”
Let’s make it real.
I’m talking about playing the hand you’re dealt—this is hope;
opposed to waiting for the better hand to be dealt
or even to have a previous hand restored—this is expectation.
Hope is hospitable
and facilitates Love.
Expectation is rigid
and leads to despair.
I reacted to my own expectation this morning,
closed my heart,
and landed in desolation.
Then hope arose as my heart welcomed Love,
and like our avian friends,
no worse for the dive,
I resumed my faithful flight.