The Crocus

The crocus is, to me, the bravest of all the flowers.

It is the vanguard of spring

The first tender bloom to find its way through the hardened earth

And seek, with no promises made,

The warmth of sunlight.

With the threat of a deadly frost looming,

And inevitable chill and a cold greeting,

The crocus still emerges.

I want to sit at the roots of these

Remarkable creatures

And learn from their boldness,

Their bravery,

Their beauty.

For it is true, that though they may be received poorly,

With wintry blasts and slim light,

They are the harbingers for

New life.