The Substance of Things Hoped For

The Rose of Sharon
and the Trumpet Vine
are always the last to leaf out.
Everything else is green—
has been since the end of April.
The lilac has already set its blooms
like tiny clusters of grapes
and its valentine leaves
are large enough to flutter
in the morning sun.
The tulips are in their glory now,
vibrant and bold,
lifting open mouths
like baby birds
to catch the food
of rain and curious bees.
Beside them, the daffodils
droop their heads
as if disappointed
that their time of blooming is done,
offering humbly
only what they have left to give—
a tall bouquet of twisted green blades.
And all that is left of the scilla and crocus
are long, green strings
annoyingly splayed out
taking up valuable space in the garden,
their beauty nearly forgotten now,
which once elated my heart
that had waited so long for spring.
But the Rose of Sharon
and the Trumpet Vine tease me
as if they are trying to look like
those dead branches of the rose bush
which will need to be clipped off
or the remaining stalks of daylilies
that I neglected to pull out last fall.
The Rose of Sharon
and the Trumpet Vine—
I think they are in cahoots.
But I know what they are up to.
I know that it won’t be long
before they can’t stand it anymore.
Not able to hold their breath
one second longer,
they too will burst out.
And I’ll laugh and say,
“Aha! I knew it all along.”

Suzanne Rood is the author of A LIMP OF FAITH (Credo House Publishers, 2019), her story of daily life with CMT, a hereditary neuropathy that challenges her walking, her music, and her faith. Here’s a link to purchase the book on Amazon.