Poem: Buds

Buds

you wake,

deep within

the bark,

while we

still think

it's winter

you somehow know,

to start your work

before the world outside

seems ready

you somehow trust

the coming of the sun,

undeterred

by winter's darkest,

coldest hours

what memory!
what timing!
if you needed me
to tell you when,

you would bloom next year!

just how is it,

that you know,

the time is right

to blossom?

Would you

tell me

if you could?

Would you

show me how

to know

when I am ready?

Could you

teach me

to believe

in the coming

of the sun?