A poem for mid-March

I am like a crocus coming in—
breaking from the dirt and

breathing.

I don’t know how crocuses sleep through
the storms, and
the snow, and
every short, dark day—
the same ones I
can barely make it through.

I don’t know if I’ll ever learn their secret.
I think every winter,
I will have to trudge through the snow
and wait
and watch
for the first hint of green
in the mulch beds.

But the crocuses are coming in.
The crocuses are coming in,
and so am I.
The crocuses are coming in,
and I am a duck in a pond,
or a picnic with a bento box,
or a lemon-yellow notebook
filled with poetry.

Poem by Rachel Finney

Rachel Finney is a writer from Westfield, Massachusetts. Her work has been published in The Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle. She holds a B.A. in English Literature from Westfield State University.