Last night

In the tatty fog-wet grass

of our back yard

I find four perfect flowers.


I hunt the garden for their origin

but the trees haven’t woken

in this coldest month of winter


and the hazelnuts only have tassels.

Many of the natives have flowers

but not like these.


I must ask our son if he picked them

in a wistful moment

as we walked the growing puppy


and then forgot them in the grass.

Or did the fairies dance here

last night? And drop a piece


of some magical spring tiara?


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