For the Writer Who Hopes a Story Can Rise AgainThis morning on my patio, three winter-crusted plants– hydrangea, chrysanthemum, bleeding heart– surprised me with tender buds and leaves. Two I’ve seen resurrect before, but I thought I bid the bleeding heart rest in peace when, at the end of last summer, she withered to a final brown, from too much sun and too little water. So this unexpected pinkish green, pushing out of last year’s stem shrouds, tripped my heart into a softer place. Who knows what else, after resting for a cold dark season, might yet be hiding life?
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