A double-dip post this week: Spiritual Journey and Poetry Friday.
We are writing with Carol this month, who has nudged us to revisit our One Little Words. Carol reminds us: we are halfway through our 2026 journey. So much has happened for so many of us. What are we noticing?
Mona Voelkel is our round up host for Poetry Friday. Join us!
hopeful
I speak often of seasonal whiplash, a consequence of living in and traveling to and from desert to mountain. It’s a bit like jet lag. But instead of sleep, I need a calendar to remind myself what month we are in.
My parents died eleven months apart. Days and weeks that normally mark time are a blur. So when Carol suggested we revisit our One Little Word, I had to search my files to recall what it was.
It was hopeful.
Time is a salve.
Five days after my mom’s funeral, Tom and I, one of my sisters, and her husband, escaped to Yosemite National Park. Surrounded by the majesty of granite monoliths, thundering waterfalls, and achingly blue horizons, I could finally, finally inhale.
I have spent two solid weeks rising with robin song, the Sierra’s own John-the-Baptist announcing the advent of day. I head to our deck. Crawl under a quilt. Cold is a slight sting of the cheeks. Coffee warms my hands and my throat.
I sense something out there…
or rather within.
A tiny tick of joy, seeking light.
Tom and I went on from there for some long-overdue cycling days. I lost myself in the mesmerizing shadows and hum of our wheels spinning on asphalt. It felt good to feel leg fatigue, to drive deltoids down, and stretch stiff necks.
hopeful, still
because winter decomposes
because wood debris, rich and damp
decays
because the dying gives way
because soil softens and hearts
thaw
because conifer and pine reawakened…
exhale…
tang––
and you gulp great gulps,
as of air gathered, held
captive
because light-headed, you are
hopeful
let it expand
photos and poem © Patricia J. Franz
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 