Forsythia

A break from tulips today, although they are starting to really blossom.
A friend of mine who is a poet posted this poem on FB yesterday. This isn't her poem but I really like it and thought to myself that I will capture our forsythia in the morning light. And I did :-)

FORSYTHIA

What must it feel like
after months of existing
as bare brown sticks,
all reasonable hope
of blossoming lost,
to suddenly, one warm
April morning, burst
into wild yellow song,
hundreds of tiny prayer
flags rippling in the still-
cold wind, the only flash
of color in the dull yard,
these small scraps of light,
something we might
hold on to.

-- Barbara Crooker