Before Spring is warm
The fragile collective
Of tender crocuses bloom
Their hazy sea.
Winter has been long
And damp is rooted
In the bones.
And then, the annual surprise:
The whisper of this mauve mass
Under gnarled trees,
Elicits an exhale of hope,
The year is returning to the sun.
But the shadows are cast
From the cash-high developer’s flats
Plans are declared to:
“landscape the green for the community”.
Do they who speed-thrust
Girders to the sky
Fathom this two- week
Gentle meadow of glory
Do they count how it makes hearts dance?
Katy Staples
Image: by Matthias Bethke CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons
