Unseen becomes seen
on February’s blank page.
Worlds below remain embryonic
while determined daffodils
thrust through, lifting
long heads to distant sun.
February, perceived
as sterile, plays midwife,
brings forth rewards.
Jealous crocus arrives,
exotic in purple,
cup-bearer to gods.
Ready with fragrant nectar,
unkind beauty usurping
the sun’s gaze.
Frilled daffodils rest
once-bright faces
on drifted snow,
lament the days
when sun was theirs,
mummify,
paper-thin.
