There will be tears, for we are only human.
There will be toil. A bluebird doesn't get
from field to field by wishing.
There will be peonies, for their beauty fosters
more peonies.
Sometimes there will be cold, to prepare
for summer's peaches.
Sometimes there will be laughter, to lighten
hours of hardship.
There will be love and the warmth
of a child's hand.
There will be lilting music.
And there will be loss and loneliness.
But if, on a clear and moonless night you stand
on a hilltop away from the haze of civilization,
where the dazzle of a billion, trillion heavenly bodies
glitters the sky, settles around your shoulders,
you will know in your heart, that no matter the strife,
there will always be stars.


© by Patricia L. Goodman.
Used with the author's permission.