The Early Arrival of Flowers
by Neil Leadbeater

Bunched against the fickle frost
she found them—
a plethora of miniature
fragrant clusters
blushing in abundance.
Charlotte was jealous
of the dozen or so primulas
popping up out of the damp earth
mid-winter. Quixotic
she called it—
a gesture whose need to be seen
could fill a room with extravagance.
How did they do it?
It was some kind of secret
she would tilt at windmills for.
The girl was beside herself.
The way they had snaked
mellow-yellow
into her long line of sight
filling her head with surprise
like that
had been a real zinger.



 

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