than the first crocus of spring.
It stands alone in all its glory,
the surest sign that there is warmth,
the beauty of Bathsheba in purple gown,
slender as a moment's time.
It does not cry because it is alone,
it does not shudder at the broken trees,
but holds it's head in slender victory,
and fiercely guards the sun inside
its yellow heart.
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