Each year green spears
Push through the snow;
Tiny white hoods droop, drift through the trees.
In the warm room
The petals have opened wide:
Stiff crinolines revealing moss-striped bodices,
Wired like fairies’ wings.
Miracles in miniature:
A trinity of trembling petals,
Perfectly created, self-assured:
The smallest harbingers of spring.
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