Flowers in Winter for America

The snow comes softly,

settles onto the long necked daffodils.

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They know how to rise above the chill,

stand as one, though they are muffled

by the cold batting stuffed into their mouths.

They know the time to sing

their golden throated songs,

of reaching for the sky,

is when the earth is hard.

It is true their numbing ache

depends on silence and resignation -  

which are the tunes of death.

Together they won't bend

to this white and angry winter,

when it is so easy 

to forget about 

their incandescent light.

 

Jude Neale

© Copyright Bowen Island Undercurrent

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