Raking the wet winter leaves from my lawn
Cold’s grip on inclemency loosening
Spring’s introductory clasp tightening
The warm, soothing palm of Mother Nature
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Amidst the decaying brown and the surging green
A small, fragile flower peeks up at me
Round like a baby’s tummy, golden belly button
Harbinger of the season of hope
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I pause my work and smile
Staring down at the wee floret
I take a moment to contemplate
The contentiousness of the crocus
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Not to warmth but in warming it rises
Thrusting tender head through algid ground
Often fighting through layers of snow
Stubborn in its striving
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I marvel at the fury of such a delicate thing
And, I blush a bit with a mild shame
As frequently I don’t behave the same
Resigned to allow winter to reside in my soul
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I return to my raking
Careful to maneuver around the blossom
Thankful for the reminder of my own resilience
Lesson taught by a tiny pastel provocateur
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