pushed past dead
leaves, spear of grass sprung
forward, saving days, light, and time.*
Walking the dogs yesterday morning, I noticed purple crocuses poking through the leaf litter in one particular yard, and a bee or two in attendance. On my mental template crocus, crocuses are always yellow, so I didn’t recognize them as crocuses until a friend identified them.
I tied the dogs by their leases to a nearby lamp post, got out the small dcam I carry, bent down close to bee and flower and snapped a dozen or so shota. The camera isn’t fancy, but it has a pretty good macro setting.
The weather has been quite warm the past day or two, but the weatherman predicts snow, and the purple crocuses may be catching snowflakes rather than tempting bees, tomorrow. This is why the first crocuses, little cyclops eyes, stab my heart like a fermata in Bach as played by Glenn Gould.