\tTimid comes the spring, sighing with unease, \n\n\tLonger days warm the soil another few degrees. \n\n\tDaffodils arise, renouncing my disease.\n\n\t \n\n\tSensing signs of hope, a rose nearby perceives \n\n\tLike me, it's unprotected, beset by inner thieves. \n\n\tBegged for intervention, I kneel and roll my sleeves. \n\n\t \n\n\tReaching under branches, my hand and glove are torn. \n\n\tTiny drops of blood reveal a sharp, tenacious thorn.\n\n\tIntersecting planes of experience conform.\n\n\t \n\n\tPausing in the moment, an introspective one, \n\n\tI review the basics needing to be done: \n\n\tFertilize and prune, re-energize with sun.\n\n\t \n\n\tStaring down my cancer, I ponder what's ahead. \n\n\tFully radiated, trimmed, and chemically re-fed, \n\n\tWill I savor summer's warmth, escape the winter's dread?