tiny trees are poking through the grass that's brown and papery,
like the raffia bows we tied on homemade loaves.

i can’t get over their hopeful numbers,
i can’t get over that i've missed them until now.

i dream that they’re the gift that winter gave,
a peace offering, a fond farewell.

but probably they’re a welcome gift from spring,
a housewarming, a kind hello.

like that nature show on baby turtles, struggling, sifting out to sea,
through the slogging sand and un-relenting waves – most will die.

those that live will always remember their fallen friends,
taking them along in the re-birth of their dying cells.


steph said...

i love that you're posting poems lately. i love the second line in this one A LOT.

Jennyflower's Mom said...

You have a most amazing way of seeing life...and then writing about it so that all of us can see as well.

jennifer sorrell said...

thanks estephie! mom!

i want to make you a homemade loaf. banana?