Despite Late Frost

Into the greening

of early April, and this morning's

hardness carries silence deep.

No calligraphy of birdsong against blue,

no new sweetness in the air -

only this metallic stillness

where white breath plumes before us

like a warning, and we walk past the blackness

of drooped tomato seedlings, past raspberry canes

and hardy rhubarb, delicate buds

of fruit trees coated with frost.

But like small ripe fruits

among the garden rock, a second crop

of purple crocus stands intrepid

for all endangered blossoms.

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