I leave you a Lenten rose,
a tender crocus,
in this imaginary spring.

The rain is cold, but the sun
teases a change.

We’re fooled. We want
to be. But there’s more
of winter due,
there’s more
revisionary time to come.

For now,
I give you these
fleeting colors,
their tender itch just under
the skin, a kind of pain
made small, formed there.

By thirty, and by three,
the spring days may come.

©

Carolyn Adams’ poetry and art have appeared in Panoply, Amsterdam Quarterly, Visitant, Bryant Literary Review, and Trajectory, among others. She is the author of four chapbooks, and has been nominated for a Pushcart prize, as well as for Best of the Net. Currently a staff editor for Mojave River Review, she is also a poetry editor for VoiceCatcher.