Bloom

Blanket of white which engulfs the grass to paint 

a sight so entrancing, also suffocates all life 

which springs from beneath the soil. 

Its appearance, so serene to view, 

obstructs beauty’s growth. 

Flowers in their magnificent glory shrivel 

into shreds of their former selves

depraved of usual striking luster and vibrancy. 

Petals perish into the chill, swallowed and buried by 

a bitter welcome of a season unforgiving. 

They lay motionless, daunting winds 

threaten to flick them off where no promise 

of rejuvenation’s return can be found. 

No hope of warmth, of light. 

Yet somehow, one touch of your hand, 

a single, delicate caress you gift, 

and the earth breathes. 

Color bursts in once-decaying landscapes; 

the sun, after deprivation so far stretched, 

bathes the whole in her embrace; 

mundane and decrepit transform into the magnificent. 

Buds lonesome and refusing to bloom today, 

with gratitude for your adoration, 

blossom to a stunning vision. 

They catch the eye of every bystander, unknowing 

only you spur something so precious. 

Thriving, simply from an iris of yours 

landing on me.