The Flower Beneath The Snow

I'll try to find the flower

Under the first winter's snow.

Something I don't recognize,

But now it all must go.

Now, I find

Myself afloat

The sea

In a fisher's boat.

He casts his net out

To the water,

As the boat did

Sway and totter.

After hours,

He pulls up the net

To see how many

That he should get.

But no fish came

To the trap,

So the old man

Took off his cap.

His kind smile,

Turned a weary frown.

As he surveyed the net

Up and down.

The last bird of spring

Chirps his last tune.

The sun retreating,

Night will come soon.

The pale moon dances

On the fallen snow.

A shape of something

I don't know.

I dug through dirt

And snow and found.

Spring's last flower

Protruding from the ground.

Spring will come

When the last snow falls.

Spring will come

When the red bird calls.