The blooms
That blossom
Under the winter sun
Are the most beautiful.
They unfurl
Their petals
Under the last dregs
Of sultry sunshine,
Soaking in the heat
That is sparse.
The frail poinsettias,
The vibrant ranunculus,
The golden hellebores
Like fire in the fields,
Fanned to glory
By frigid winds
And cold, hard soil.
But then I see
Mauve blooms of
Monkshood,
The soft blues of
Periwinkle blossoms
And the blush of
Camellias,
Their cheeks rosy
In the winter wind,
And I wonder which bunch
Is prettier,
So I might adorn
My curls
With the blossoms
That survive
The weather.