The Promise

The Promise
Christopher Bogart

A promise rainbows every drop of dew
That rolls in silence off each green leaf’s vein.
Potential’s borne in every woolly ewe
That foals in straw made damp by summer’s rain.

In every greening shoot that splits the soil
To raise its hooded head to face the sun,
There’s promise rilling through its tender coils
Of fragrant fates before its day is done.

And when the first cry of a newborn child
Is tossed into the air like glittering gold,
Our hearts still flutter and our minds, beguiled
By promise of a future to unfold.