the woods
covered overnight
by a white shroud
lie dormant
among
waiting wandering restless tracks
who can imagine
what is to come?
the seasonal explosion
when
bright birds
bumlebees and
blossoms
suddenly appear
spiritual harbingers
look
right there
under snowy cover
there lies
a patch of lady slippers
as restless as the tracks above
waiting
held by frozen blackness
ready to burst forth
a fragrant offering
as wondrous as
Christ from the tomb
