Blossoms, oh, I know they are coming soon
But for now they are still,
quiet,
and slumbering.

What do they dream of?
Do they look forward to the eyes,
the voices,
the nibbles,
the sunshine?

Do they care?

Or do they simply wait
and gently arise
with blurry vision
and a yawn or a stretch?

Yellow,
blue,
green,
purple.

The fragrance.
I sow the fragrance.
How can I forget?

The first day of blossoms
that suddenly appear
as I drive down the street.

Suddenly the darkness of winter is swept away.
Not plowed violetnly.

But gently,
ever so gently
the darkness bows and curtsies to the brilliance.