CHOICE

We’re asked to choose joy this day.

Sorrow has been easier since the election results.

Despair, hopelessness, and anger

Are much easier beats in rhythm to

Falling leaves and fallen hearts.

The cool breeze holds a promise of bitter chill,

As it stirs dried leaves at my feet.

But, I know that choosing joy

Is what we need.

So, I lift my head to the sun,

Doing its best to spread heat

Through bared branches.

I choose joy,

Living in this sanctuary of Christ’s presence.

As seasons change,

Joy’s choice is the present promise of hope.