Originally published in the 2008 National Poetry Anthology
In February, when the harsh winds crashed over the bitter night air,
I ventured into the tempest, and found a beacon of hope in the midst of the tumult.
Poking up through the cold and wintry snow,
Struggling to spread its tender leaves, and grow.
The baby crocus, vibrant in its purple glory,
Battles the snow, which masks the beautiful land in its ghostly pallor.
Its stem stands as a determined beacon against the snow’s fury,
Budding and rising with ever increasing valor.
O blessed blossom, thee who determinedly prevailed,
You are the hope and the dream of a Spring unveiled.
Believe me, my love, that if it were not for you,
The bitter frost would have consumed me, through and through.
Where did you come from, my beauty from below!
I never thought to ask, I never knew:
For I now realize that it is to you I owe,
My undying love and the promise to be true.
