It's Still Life

The blues bow their heads.
The yellows shiver.
Purple crocuses tighten.

They do not know the wind is turning,
do not feel North’s cold blade
at their throat.

“Of course they don’t know,”
says the crow from his bare March branch,
“they believe in tomorrow.
That’s what makes them flowers.”

Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.