Netzach she b’Gevurah*
Every upward moving pointed sprout struggles
toward us—iris, narcissus, knobbed
knuckles and ruby spears of peony,
wrinkled fists of columbine’s first
leaves, just emerging from the mud,

past stones, between wandering roots
of meadow grass, while spirea’s swollen buds
unfurl into tiny tender leaves.

Maple’s breeze-blown floral fringes
filter brilliant light, and magnolia dares
her fleshy blossoms, her creamy pink
and ivory desire, a bit battered by recent frosts. 
to open before our grateful gaze.

She’s offering us her dream
of heaven.  We, who have
once again survived winter’s icy winds
to receive the abundant flowering
of another spring.
                                                4/30/2011
                   *Eternal Endurance within Boundaried Strength