First crocus

This morning, flowers cracked open
the earth's brown shell.
Spring leaves spilled everywhere
though winter's stern hand
could come down again at any moment
to break the delicate yolk
of a new bloom.

The crocus don't see this as they chatter
beneath a cheerful petal of spring sky.
They ignore the air's brisk arm
as they peer at their fresh stems,
step on the leftover fragments
of old leaves.

When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air.

Christine Klocek-Lim

Chainsaw Massacre day 2:
Thankyou everyone for your time and thoughts yesterday, I made the Spotlight page, am very sad to report the devastation continued again today, a fresh onslaught of chainsaws, ravaging everything to the ground..BUT Public opinion, now woken is gathering pace....