First Crocus
by Melanie Claire Blinn Eulberg

Outside my frozen pod
     encased within the deep,
The drum of rain on sod
     awakens me from sleep.

A surge begins within–
     a whispered mantra: Grow …
My fibers warm and thin,
     preparing me to go.

The liquid fire of youth
     demands I leave this plane,
Not knowing yet the truth:
     becoming causes pain.

I ride on Nature’s force
     up-thrusting through my shell,
Along a twisting course
     whose end none can foretell.

But as I wind my way,
     enduring what I must,
There comes a hint of dawn
     and tender growth of trust.

I feel my stem uncurl
     to part the surface clay.
The golden flags unfurl
     proclaiming my birth-day.

A vivid stream of love
     alights upon my face.
I know the thrill of height.
     I know the touch of Grace.

(previously printed in The Poets’ Showcase, 2016-2017)


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