On the western front of winter,
at the eastern edge of spring
A seal of frost is broken…
Come and See:
they have risen,
haloed in gold.
Through the wood-smoke smell of winter
a wisp of perfume twists and curls –
rising from their golden vials
like the prayers of a billion bees,
prayers offered up all winter
in the buzz that warms the hives.
Prayers gathered into swelling buds
and made manifest in nectar,
to feed the faithful on its sweetness,
when, their third part gone,
the scattered husks litter the ground.
Then those remaining rise
with their wings, warmed by the light,
beating the air in celebration
of the coming of spring.