JULIE ANN STEVENS

In 2013, a friend gave me the metaphor of spring as a mighty sword pushing winter over the horizon.

I pictured that horizon —

It’s edge tinged with winter’s recess —

As I let the single stem rise from the paper.

Sword-like.

Delicately poised.

Triumphant.

Humble.

It seems to whisper:

“There is a bigger picture and —

There is no bigger picture.

We are here and —

We are there.

Life is fleeting and —

Life is enduring.”