In March no matter
how maddening the weather,
how confusing the signs,
the sleet and snow,
the magnolias know.
There have been smaller signals
sent out by lesser trees,
their buds giving unconvincing hints
of better days to come.
But today I have spotted
the lavender-ripening-into-purple
of a magnolia blossom.
I find these huge, soft, lavish
tree flowers
so miraculous
it makes a believer of me.
In this year
in which all assumptions
are open to question,
I go home tonight assured
that at least one more time
there will
in fact
be spring.


©Ellen Azorin