The first to come this year came with the rain,
Its colors at first muted, dampened by
An early Summer storm whose lighter touch
Enriched and coaxed the purple flag to fly.
Hard Winter, gone now with its tight-closed fist
Of ice and winds that harshly freeze and blow
Seems like a dream from which we wake in fear,
Forgetting what hot Life goes on below.
The snow that makes thick blankets for those months,
The sleet that feels to us like needly knives,
Protects what lies below in soil’s cities,
Cracks open seeds that later send up lives.
What in the moment we call harsh and fear
Projects the beauty and sweet Life now here.