Danielle Trollip

It's purple,

The softest purples where once it had been bare.

It's purple,

The drops of waterless rain - all I can do is stare.

Hadn't they been bare for so long,

This winter stripped bark?

Where had this sudden burst come from?

The tree she says, Hark!

Hark! To those who listen,

Hark! To those who see:

Not all things stay as they be;

Not all treasures so glisten.

To change is a constant

And Death comes in more ways than the one.

To change is a way of life

And resurrection trumpets His purple call.