It’s Easter.

Snow drops in blobs.


It catches my eye as I pass the window.

I look out more intently, and see snow drops of another kind. Green shoots poking, strong and brave, out of ice soil, down between the ragged herbs sleeping dormant.


I think I see a bloom or two!

I must retrieve a treasure! I scoot out dodging snow blobs, and pluck them: one, two.

An extra bonus for the Resurrection Day table. Two harbingers of hope.


Nearly buried and unseen.

                        Had I passed this window two minutes later I wouldn’t have seen the barest sign of their being.

But still they would have been there.  Life hidden but true.


Sooner or later, hope will out. Like snow drops rising.

And resurrection.





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