The biter winds howls through the pines above us.
I walk, arms gripping my shoulders, down the hill.
There among the sharp spines of rosemary, the bare dirt,
A paperwhite has struggled through the soil.
Time passes, a few weeks later, I notice the buds of daffodills
and suddenly, it seems they are in full bloom.
With winter not wanting to say farewell, spring has forced his bitter wind away.