I drew my breath
all the way down to my roots,
buried myself in the frozen earth,
hidden from sight and
safe from the sting
of a world with such
a distant sun.

I knew I’d return
when the sunshine came home,
and now that spring has sprung,
and longer days have begun,
I can’t roll out of bud
quickly enough.

Once I’ve fully emerged
and spread myself wide
to dance in the sky and
fly in the breeze;
once the summer sun is splashing down,
feeding me from above,
filling me with love;
then the cold winter days
will be gone and forgotten.

The distant past
will no longer matter —
except for the memory
that I can’t quite escape,
and my knowing
that the short days,
the cold winds,
the quiet death will return
at summer’s end.

The children didn’t mind
me when I filled their fields
with tiny yellow starbursts
for as far as the eye could see.

I grew toward the sun and no one
looked away nor sighed nor
wondered what to do with me.

But the flower of my youth has gone
leaving me to carry on.
I’m old and gray and
One day soon
a gentle breeze
will blow me away.