leaning toward the light

I picked the shortest-stalked paperwhite

I could find, hoping to prolong bloom time

deeper into advent, but since Saturday

the slender stems have shot up, leaning

toward the light; now the first tender bud

is swelling, waiting for the sun’s return

to burst forth in defiance of the cold.

is this an echo of the eagerness

with which I am meant to hope?

sister narcissus, teach me to plunge

my roots deep into the living waters,

and drinking, unfurl, unafraid.