Seven Purple Crocuses

Tara Caribou – Spring Hope

Raw Earth Ink

crystals coat my eyelashes
and my puffed breath
swirls before my face

the mist runs its fingers
through the low-lying trees
the quiet whisper of dried and
yellowed grass in the slightest breeze
the grasp of winter’s white blanket
still wrapped around their ankles

somehow or other
I catch the glimmer of the sun’s rays
through shadowed branches
and I breathe deeper

a spot of bright light
rests on my cheek
dims when the fog thickens ever so

the hollow ache in my breast tightens
and I wonder
is this the day in which
my heart bursts and ends everything

a shiver dances down my spine
I smell snow-covered branches
and I keep walking

today or tomorrow
I’ll keep watching the skies
and hoping for winter’s end

my foot treads something softer
and I look down to see the bright faces
of seven purple crocuses
filled with ice crystals and…

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