it would be easy to think
that hope wouldn’t last,
that it could be stamped out,
that a little frail thing
like that shoot wouldn’t
be strong enough to last
through the droughts and storms.
tempting to imagine
that it was all in your own hands now,
that you had been left alone,
and you would have to find another way.
but now you stop,
now you realise that hope springs.
that it is all around you,
strong it it’s multitude,
that you couldn’t stop it
even if you tried.
elisabeth pike 