Glenda Beall writes in Hayesville NC.
Can I Bloom Again?
By Glenda Beall
Snow falls in Connecticut, sun shines in the south.
February’s trees still gray and bare, but I see
red-breasted robins, finches on the feeder,
reminding me life’s cycle never ends.
Can I bloom anew this year? Start over
with a clean slate, with fresh energy
rising from my roots like the Lenten roses,
daffodils and crocuses we planted by the door?
Can these fallow fields yield abundance as before?
Can they produce a glory, hold a rainbow in the sky?
Or must they lie abandoned, providing nurture
for only bitter weeds and thorns?
I long to shed winter’s dry leaves, bud out green
on strong limbs, blossom and bring smiles to gloomy faces,
nod in gentle breezes and cup the golden butterfly to my face.
You make it so nice to be a tree.
A beautiful expression of our daily question when we reach a certain age (not necessarily the same for everyone). Thank you for it.
Glenda, certainly you speak for all who struggle through winter!
Oh, Glenda! What a stunning last stanza. “Cup the golden butterfly to my face”–you have captured spring!