Still Listening

My dreaming echoes with the sounds of trains,
the distant calling of the wild geese,
the gentle whisper of the falling rain.
A peaceful sound-- and yet I'm not at peace.

Old winter flies away on tattered wings,
grey storm-clouds shredded at their southern hems.
Blue sky announces long-awaited spring,
and birds rejoice, but I'm not one of them.

Still watching for some other news to come.
Still waiting for another phone to ring.
Still dreaming of a light behind the sun.
Still walking in the surf and listening.

The word will come, most likely unexpected.
I trust it will not find my heart neglected.