Snowdrops

Snowdrops in the door garden

bloom by drooping as an April storm flies.

Their tiny milk-white petal-cups

bend beneath the infinite hopes of a new spring.

Their rarified green slender stems

bend beneath the weight of last year’s detritus.

Stooping to rise every April

through frozen dead leaves and frosty earth.

Since Theophrastus dubbed them “white violets”,

the Galanthus nivalis have shrugged off millennias’ worth

of late April snowflakes and reluctant thaws.