Don’t you know yet?
One morning, when you are wrapped
in winter’s dark blanket, barely alive,
our slim buds tipped with violet
will appear, like tropical birds
in your brown garden pocked with snow.
And how we hurry
to burst into scalloped bonnets—
wider, wider.
We are tough. Frost and snow—
we outlast them
until the canary-yellow bells of daffodils emerge
and we know, it’s time to go..
Next year, remember—
when winter turns all to white and brown
and you are lost,
early one morning,
from under winter’s dark blanket
we shall return.
