Blossoms under Snow

Freshly fallen blossoms under freshly fallen snow,
When spring is taken for granted, suddenly it's cold.
The winter hats were packed away, 
The mittens and the coats,
The worst of it was over now, 
The summer breezes blow.
Sigh of relief already breathed
Sticks now in the throat,
Flowers freeze mid-bloom.
Promises breathed in sunshine
Planted seeds too soon.
Now it is cold. 
They do not grow.

The sturdy cactus may survive,
 made ugly with its spikes.
But tender flower does not aspire
behind some bulk to hide.
It goes out on a limb
And opens up right then
Its petals so quaint and thin.
When soon falls the night,
Blossoms formerly bathed so bright,
Scare at the prospect in sight,
And bow to a blanket of snow.

Temperatures fall faster than expected.
The earth turns away from the sun.
The winds from the north now run.
Even the weed retreats to its roots fearing not,
grows up again undaunted.
Though underestimated, taunted,
Blows seeds to the wind again.

And so we try again,
And so we try yet again...

Most of the springs flowers had finished course.
The tenacious snow bells rang in winter's end,
long before the less assuming cherry tree began.

When again the autumn reigns we'll do it all again.
We'll bury bulbs beneath the earth to rest until the spring.
And when spring rains follow snowy days,
Dead bulbs awake to the danger of early spring.
Will the warmth bring blossoms to deceive them?
Bring them up and then freeze them?
It may not seem sane.
We plant just the same.

And so we love again,
And so we love yet again.

In Memory of my brother,
Jeremiah Jesse Greene
September 4, 1979–April 27, 2017
Ecclesiastes chapter 11