It’s so small, half-hidden among the winter-whipped remnants of last year’s leaves. But it’s there, a blossom blue as twilight.
Head bent, preoccupied, and light years removed, I work the tines of my garden rake around and between heuchera and penstemon, my thoughts endlessly orbiting the traces of a vanished world.
All at once, I spy it, this sudden flash of blue. The first flower of spring.
Its gentle gravitational pull brings me back to earth. I touch down on one knee, and, with gloved hands, uncover a single star, perfect in form, trembling on a slender stem.
Sometimes, I let myself drift in a frozen universe, chilled to the marrow, searching for life, in need of a miracle. Here, twinkling at my feet, I have found one.
Blue scilla, my tiny Polaris, little earth-star, you have guided my heart home. Home, to the present moment. Home, to a sense of wonder and gratitude. Here, in the spring of another year. Here, with the many I love.
Like the weary wanderer I am, the one so apt to float away in search of that which cannot be found, I weep for joy.