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