False spring

Where sunlight touches
frozen ground among the trees
a single primrose.

 I wrote this haiku-style a couple of weeks ago at a time when it seemed winter was over. Within days other primroses and wild flowers had shown their colours.

Now we are in deep snow again, and the flowers are hidden, something that happens often in an alpine winter. Snow can arrive any time up to Easter. The miracle is, and over the years I have never ceased to wonder at it, that the open flowers can stay buried for weeks but will emerge intact, beautiful, fulfilling their promise.

I had never noticed till just now that the words promise and primrose are almost-anagrams.

CJM

Starting a blog

The aim of this blog is twofold: to bring both my published and unpublished work together for a wider audience, and to observe, celebrate and otherwise mark arising Moments as seen from the top of a mountain. More will follow soon.
CJM