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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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