Pale purple crocuses
crowd beneath the apple tree
by the stone foundation
warmed by a mid-March sun

April, I know, brings spring
but also snow
feather-flaked and heavy
bends the creeping rose
low to the garden’s cheek

If the cold should come again
will the huddled crocus
mustering crowd
of luminous stem and petal
peek head from snow
or bow at last
a quiet submission
to harken Spring
with its early passing