2018 Croci

On an errand recently, just a few days before the beginning of spring, I spotted these croci (crocuses) sprouting up from turf at the base of a large maple tree. The flowers seemed to have won a valiant battle over roots, grass, and pieces of bark. They weren’t overwhelmingly beautiful, but I admired the courage it took to find and homestead such a precarious piece of turf no more than two feet from the street. In their honor I composed this poem:


No definitive pop

You emerged with a pfft

Those tinctured pastels

Gave Terra Firma the slip

As your Mother Earth

Awoke from her sleep

You hurried your trek

From half-frozen deep

No blaring trumpets

Nor strings aplenty

Warbled your birth

From winter’s eternity

Yet quiescent blooms

Stirred my eyes from their glaze

Awakened my passion

From slumberous malaise


Rocky James Curtiss 03/22/2018


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