How striking a contrast

That such hopeful bursts of purple rising up from frosted dirt

Could symbolize sorrow,

Yet it was my heavy heart that saw them first blooming

Weakened in spirit and physical strength

Wondering if I would see the rest of the garden come to life

When life seemed to be leaving me.

Maybe the hyacinths offered a sobering perspective

That our existence is as fleeting as an early spring bloom

A brilliant, colorful burst of meaningful moments

Both sorrowful and endearing, harrowing and delightful

And when the guarantee of summer no longer feels secure

We learn to savor what is, just as it is

The brilliance of purple hyacinths bringing into focus

The precious gift of being alive.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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