The Power
Pendulous gray clouds
smudge a frigid, foreboding day
framing a worthless awakening.
Forging outside, I move leaded legs
down paint flaking steps
giving serindipitous
glance
at a remaining patch of real ground
spliced into a world of concrete bleakness and blight.
A singular little
purple crocus is revealed
defiant and vibrant,
fragile and fierce,
winning against all odds.
-Jerry Wendt 2012
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