On the day hope breathed its final sigh
and passed away at last,
the sun shone brightly without clouds
to block its cheerful view.
Birds went about important businesses
of flight and food and song,
dogs called enthusiastic greetings
from yards to passersby.
Breezes lightly bounced and jitterbugged
from random compass points,
shrubs and trees waved in jaunty rhythms
all along hope’s cortege.
Faith turned from the happy procession
it knew what soon would pass,
without a companion of hope in life
it too would die, at last.

Casey Mack (2010)