Survival by Kelsa Graybill

Buds hang on through the winter–
snow-tossed cradles
bound by slender branch.

In the spring I always marvel
at the blossom— fragile, perfumed child
of winter, how did you survive?

The breeze laughs petals in reply.
Spring does not hoard her hard-earned bounty,
survival garlands every tree–
while I wonder at their beauty
I bless the hope that graces me.

Kelsa Graybill lives in eastern Pennsylvania with her husband and their Australian labradoodle. She writes about spiritual formation, embodiment, and nature at kelsagraybill.com.