The Crocus [Day 176]

MIST CURLED AROUND the slender white birches. Rain drummed across their budding leaves, pert little green stubs happily soaking up the moisture. A tiny crocus bobbed its purple calyx at the sky, singing a silent harmony with the gentle downpour. It had been waiting a long time. And now, the crocus’ leaves quivered in excitement at the many stories it would tell the new buds when they bloomed.


Written: 15 March 2016

Words: 66

Inspired: weather

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