There’ll be a sign. Of course, there’ll be a sign.
It’ll be subtle, but it will find you if you open

your heart and let the wind blow through.
Hope can look like winter-bare trees showing

tiny bumps of buds-to-be, or a bird beginning
to trill as you step outside. Or a kitty brushing

your calf or a doggy licking your hand. But hope
can also look like the man standing on the center

divider of the busy intersection with a sign that
simply says, Please. And you do not want to

pass up hope when a sign suddenly appears.
You think all hope is lost? That nothing can

overcome act after act of outrageous cruelty?
Let that exposed heart of yours respond

with tears, with outrage, and let that response
be a sign unto you: HOPE, it may say,

in gigantic, Second Coming type, the kind that
used to blast big news from newspapers.

Stop wherever you are. Look around. Extend
a kind hand to a stranger along with the rest

of your tender self. When you feel another’s
hand in yours, squeeze some lovingkindness

into it. Smile the tiniest bit of mutual hope into
each other’s eyes. Watch it burst into blossom.