Hope Like Bulbs 

The first frost

crystalline in my heart 

collapsing tender thoughts,

sending others into hibernation.

I plant hope, like bulbs,

in cracked 

terracotta containers,

not out in the open

where the dark wet winter

will soak and freeze, 

tender new shoots

exposed to biting winds.

I mulch my hope

with a thousand tiny stones

to shield from prying eyes

and sharp invasive claws.

Perhaps, in spring’s

damp thaw

my soul will bloom 

crocus and galanthus