The breeze still draws chills from my body
as I walk, head down along the field.
I want to see the signs of winter awaken.
giving in-flowers, every tiny flowers!
Some are tiny bluets, sprinked among the
dead grasses, rushing to grow before the grasses.
There are stalks of white blossoms, so tiny
I must look close to examine them.
I remember how the seed pods burst open
when they flowers have done their duty.
I see the sign of periwinkles along
the cracked brick wall beside the road.
The dandelions, frustrating by their number
as spring unfolds, are wonderful now,
as spring just begins to unfold around me.
Daffodills and purple crocus dapple my garden.
Hiding out as spring turns to summer-
their locations, for several seasons, unknown.
Nothing brings a smile to a hiker like the first flowers.
They give us the hope, so badly needed,
The remind us that beauty comes in all forms, at all times.
Their variety-from delicate spring beauty to
stout dandilions surprises me as they race to beat
the leaves and grasses waiting to beat them out.
In times when my heart is dispondant,
my soul in virtual hibernation within me,
I see these first signs of winter’s surrender
and hope that perhaps, just maybe some other sorrows
will take their hint an surrender too,
Come, spring flowers, each day I will search for you
as you come and quickly go, wherever you hide.