under October snow
lone and cold/dark and old
I rose

pushing my petals out
beneath the frost. Asking if
the sun is lost. The sky is grey
as nanna’s hair. Fatter than her

*****/sitting square. A child’s
breath hangs circling the air in billowing
clouds of apples and pears. I dance

and bring the morning rain. The sun
paints a crimson stain in the late
afternoon. I’ll rise again in early June.