The blackberry bushes are in bloom;
Every hillside is home,
To their long bowed stems.
Swaying peacefully in a gently breeze,
And covered end to end,
In soft white blooms.

Each of these blooms,
Is a herald of something great,
And something dear to me.
So when I see the blooms I’m reminded,
Something good will come.

Remember the future.

It sounds absurd to say.
How can you remember something,
That hasn’t even happened?
But even yesterday,
Was once tomorrow.

Pain stands in the present,
And Sorrow lives in the past,
But Joy thrives in the future where,
After the dead, wilted petals,
have littered the ground,
The sweet berries will be waiting.