They have taken the Lord out of the tombs she said.
I have not ascended to the master, do not cling to me.
We now follow where Mary led.
Like her we meet but we do not see.

It is July now, I can hear the rumble of the combine starting harvest.
Gone are those fresh days of Easter.
The air is heavy now warm are these days of summer rest.
But still those echoes of spring can be a reminder and teacher.

Gone now from our valley are daffodil, tulip, hyacinth, blossoms and bluebell.
Here now are delphiniums, lilies, dahlias, gardenias, hydrangeas, iris, and last crocus.
But still my eyes remain closed to what the spirit can tell.
This beauty all around me is all I can see in nature’s chorus.

But in this hot summer air.
An echo of fresh cool spring hope is still there.