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.

Crocus' are up. And they are beautiful. My husband has already found many reasons to wander around them and the rest of his garden. It is very much his garden. He notices the detail of every plant. He has the garden dirt under his fingernails. He is the one slowly cultivating beauty outside our home.