Featured Article A World Waiting A world plowed waiting for a season of new growth waiting for us to choose which seeds of wishes shall spill into the earth, so fertile to our desires, our hopes, our imaginings. Hope is blossoming, I can feel it in the waters of our hearts irrigating, preparing the parched patches of crust left for too long in the desert of our joint isolation. Ripened ovules of love offspring of our will offshoot of our spirit waiting to be nurtured waiting to be cultivated waiting for our determined decision. I can see it. A yield of fruit tasting of forgiveness and compassion, clustered on a vine of realization that all is from the same root Love. Hope is blossoming. I can feel it.