My spirit eyes can see my flowers.
When I look out across my snow covered yard, I see the bulbs.
I see the roots longing to break ground, aching to push the tender,
green sprouts up through the dirt and into the light of day.
They are patiently waiting, hibernating beneath the snow.
They are not gone. They are not dead.
They are just hidden from view… alive and strong just like me.
My spirit eyes can see my flowers.
Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie 