Midwinter and the dead earth
Suddenly parts to give birth
To thick clusters of stiff
flowers
Whiter than scattered pear
tree showers,
Marble monuments or morning
milk,
Smoother than pebbles or old
silk,
I touch each blossom, where
they lie
With polished leaves and
golden eye,
The hellebores of the January
snows,
The plant I call the Christmas
Rose.
Leonard Clark
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| Sign of optimism and hope in the depressing days of January |
