Crocus

Come on, bulb,
push out of the crowded
ground. Sure, you’re Dutch,
dwarven, short breath, then autumn
with her wan bouquet. But I love
your leaves before they’re born,
slim whips dreaming,
your flower, bundled curd
with its own face
there already—such
a schoolboy certainty,
blind climb toward a heaven
you heard was there.

 

 

Amy Miller

About Amy Miller

Amy Miller’s poetry has appeared in Northwest Review, Nimrod, Crab Orchard Review, Many Mountains Moving, Willow Springs, and ZYZZYVA. She won the Cultural Center of Cape Cod National Poetry competition, judged by Tony Hoagland, and was a finalist for the 2012 Pablo Neruda Prize and 49th Parallel Award. She works as the publications manager for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and blogs at writers-island.blogspot.com.
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