By Julie Cadwallader Staub

Before the trees unfurl their leaves
while the sun still bathes
the forest floor with warmth

the bloodroot
that bleeds like us when broken
waits in its leafy cloak

until it is so soaked with sun
it opens its carousel of petals
as if to say

this too is true
this too is holy
this marriage of sorrow and light

This poem was published by Crosswinds Poetry Journal, Volume VIII ~ 2022.