I walk into the woods in search of signs
of spring’s emergence. Here and there,
blades of grass poke through the layers
of last year’s fallen leaves. But mostly
the browns eclipse the bits of green.
I am weary of the hue and eager
for curled ferns and wee flowers.
Then a whisper floats into my awareness:
Remember winter’s gift to you. Oh, yes!
Lessons in color and form. And there
at my feet, I see the day’s offering,
a lacy filigree of white atop a curled wave
of sugared brown, a treasure, to be sure.
Remember, comes the whisper.
And I nod, and gently smile.