The water drips off the petals from what once was frost
the same way your past tugs at your sleeve.
They all forget the dry grass
that you would see on your way home,
covered with the motherly I know what's best for you sleet of ice
when the smell of green rises from the Earth.
I am proud of you, though,
for getting through the zero degree weather.
When your teeth would chatter and your fingertips numb.
To the point where you would no longer feel anything.
You allowed yourself to see
the birds fly back home
the pollen in the air
your new beginning.