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Snowdrop

In the dark of the first spring night rain fell.
Far off, in the distance, bells sang out.
Slowly, the dawn came
reluctant at first,
but still it came.

It was still gray when the sun hidden 
behind the clouds rose from the horizon,
rain gently falling.
Cherry blossoms hung heavy with anticipation,
swaying carefully in the warming breeze.
 
The soft wind carried a scent of promise.
The ground sucked at the falling rain
greedily; it took it all,
it was a
hard dry winter.

From the loam, slender green shoots towered above the grass.
At the top white flowers hung heavy,
dripping slowing off their bell-shaped  forms
sweet warm honey and milk combined and
dropped into the melting snow.

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