FIRST CROCUS
This morning, flowers cracked open
the earth’s brown shell. Spring
leaves spilled everywhere
though winter’s stern hand
could come down again at any moment
to break the delicate yolk
of a new bloom.
The crocus don’t see this as they chatter
beneath a cheerful petal of spring sky.
They ignore the air’s brisk arm
as they peer at their fresh stems, step
on the leftover fragments
of old leaves.
When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air."
- Christine Klocek-Lim
Note : Christine is the Editor of Autumn Sky Poetry and won the 2009 Ellen LaForge memorial Prize in Poetry. She has generously allowed permission to use her poem here for our Muse Day.
Written by Carolyngail at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago
All rights reserved
