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Just now, under the frozen earth

the seed awakens.

Its heart begins a faint thump, thump,

and its tiny hands tucked in tight

tremble with a life

ready to burst forth in spring.


So do I, kissed by a warming sun

feel the pulse of new energy beat within.


What do I do with this graced love?


Each moment I decide:

Will I be a weed growing goat-head fruit

that pricks the passerby?

Or am I a poppy with its capacity for bliss

and its glowing orange petals

that make even the horned toad smile?


This moment, this now

determines what sprouts

and grows.


I choose the radiant poppy.

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