Timid comes the spring, sighing with unease,
Longer days warm the soil another few degrees.
Daffodils arise, renouncing my disease.
Sensing signs of hope, a rose nearby perceives
Like me, it's unprotected, beset by inner thieves.
Begged for intervention, I kneel and roll my sleeves.
Reaching under branches, my hand and glove are torn.
Tiny drops of blood reveal a sharp, tenacious thorn.
Intersecting planes of experience conform.
Pausing in the moment, an introspective one,
I review the basics needing to be done:
Fertilize and prune, re-energize with sun.
Staring down my cancer, I ponder what's ahead.
Fully radiated, trimmed, and chemically re-fed,
Will I savor summer's warmth, escape the winter's dread?