Blown by the chill wind, the blossoms were thick
in the air, the white petals flying and whirling,
building into soft and delicate snow-like drifts.
Along the street, people got out their brooms
to sweep their walks, humphing over the why of it.
She trudged on through the drifts, her face
frozen, tears in her eyes, flakes in her hair,
her scarf whipping anchorless behind her
as she desperately tried to hold onto
that last shred of spring she had left.
All springs of all types—physical, mental, moral and spiritual—abide with new life and hope. But still, much can be asked and hurt at such delicate moments…
The photograph is entitled Courage and was taken in my home town, Putnam, CT. For more photography, please visit the Book of Bokeh.
Photograph, poem and notes © 2014 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works…
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