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Barbara Crooker
Resistance Poem #7
     For Marjorie Stelmach

Despite being crushed by a late spring storm,
foot and a half of snow, ice, and lies, the crocuses
are blooming their little orange hearts out,
and there, in the perennial bed, even though
their stems were bent parallel to the ground,
daffodils, voices of the Resistance, open
their yellow mouths, rising up out of the duff
and detritus: Winter will not win.
The earth abides.