Beneath the Snow, Flowers Grow

Black and white winter tends to chill us to the bone. Summer joys lie torpid in thick ice. Hopes hybernating.

Frozen in distant memory banks, spring flowers lie far beneath.
One wonders whether May will show her lovely face again.

But she will! She will! She always does!

Every spring, she springs, and sings, and brings new life.

The multi-colored days, pinioned by the bitter greys, will soon burst forth in light,

Winter is only temporary.  Beneath the snow, flowers grow.


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