Appreciating Where Flowers Will Emerge

I trace my fingers across the grass,
the little green shards,
the silky plants tickling my skin.
It has survived the winter,
the dry brown it had become
slowly disappearing,
turning rich green from the sun.
The soft, flimsy plants
cover the seeds,
soon to grow into delicate wildflowers,
displaying the season's beauty.
The grass will become a sea,
with little boats made of petals,
drifting through the grass,
blown by the breeze.
The seeds will become crystals among coal,
standing out in the constant,
something that is helpful,
but not quite as gorgeous.
I trace my fingers across the grass,
imagining the flowers that will emerge,
but still appreciating the soft,
wispy, green grass.