Plum blossom

I open when the world is still asleep.
The snow hasn’t melted, the air still stings — yet I unfold, petal by petal, into the silence of winter.
I do not wait for warmth to arrive. I am the sign that it’s coming.
Around me, branches are bare and skies are dull, but I’ve never needed permission to be beautiful.
My fragility is not weakness — it’s proof that softness can survive frost.
I was never meant to be loud. I was meant to remind you that beginnings can exist even in the hardest season