In the front yard, petite snowdrop-like flowers have punched their way through dead leaves in their vernal fervor to reach sunlight. I tore away several leaves that were still whole except for the little hole through which the surprisingly strong flower bud made its escape to the surface--driven what the great poet Dylan Thomas described as " the force that through the green fuse drives the flower."




















We all feel it, that urge,
to turn our faces to vernal sunlight,
reawakened.