She stirs in the still hard ground of my grief

Messenger of hope promise of re-leaf

Newborn and naked without armour or shield

Witness to healing (to wounds already healed ?)

I fear that she yet may succumb to a frost

That the rage of this winter with all that’s been lost

Which howls through the day and bites in the night

Could still come to ravage her spirit so slight

And I wonder that something so gentle and small

Could bring this much comfort – could break through at all