January in a Corner of the Garden.
Hard ground, cold cold
wind, craggy earth,
Unyielding lawn, patchy,
grey-green, windswept:
No leaves,
no dew, no plashy earth, no children playing,
Dull leaden skies, a
wheeling bird, and distant sound of traffic.
Together they stand, head
bowed, unshaken, proud
Witnesses to the eternal
miracle of life.
A tiny corm, buried in the
earth
Nigh twelve months has lain
dormant;
Perhaps heard the first
cuckoo, felt the April rains,
Welcomed the May dew and
basked unseen in summer sun,
Storing its power and glory
for future battle.
Autumn comes and goes; the
dew has turned to frost,
A hundred thousand sparkles
in the freezing air.
And suddenly they are there
again, together,
The little snowdrops, meek
and mild, yet mighty.