Sprouts

A piece reflecting the feeling of longing.

I am a baby rabbit, 

pale-white and cold. 

Curled into a little ball, 

I shiver. 

Flecks of snow

spread on my whiskers. 

An arid wind blows

and rustles my fair fur. 

My small stomach grumbles,

aching for some food. 

A sprout spears up

from the hard ground. 

I blink and blink

but the sprout does not disappear. 

What is your name, sprout? 

How long have you been there?