Writer, Editor, Strategic Communicator
You cut
Through the ice
That tries still
To provoke us.
You burst
Through the dirt,
Just as life
Has lost focus.
You sing out
Your colors,
And those asleep
Have awoken.
Your breath
Is a song
In C major —
Your lifelong opus.
You’re a sign
It’s not over —
At last,
My dear crocus.
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