See a flower, pelted by rain, scarred by hail. See
A bloom whipped by slicing winds, scalded by unquenched mid-day sun.
Yet it yawns wide, breathes and stretches, unfurls. Delicate, indestructible arms
Then time and age, waste and days, then longer days and rain no longer
Revives. The scoff of storms yields no more growth. A season dies and she sleeps.
Peace beneath muddy crust till a new season of trial and storm,
Growth again, of new glory,
new color, deeper roots.