A brilliant crocus bowed in the wind,
Its petals touched by sun;
I scanned the garden but did not see
A flower more than one.
Leaves of last year it had pushed up through
Its own to face the sky;
Purple and green it showed up against
Dull brown and gray nearby.
Snows of winter still coated the ground,
The trees still dry and bare;
In all of the world there seemed no life
But for the flower there.
A brilliant crocus bowed in the wind,
The joy its sight to bring;
For after the storms and cold this is
The first new bloom of spring.
--1997
No comments:
Post a Comment