Some Dry Flowers and the Promise of Spring

We moved here in September, when most things were finished blooming. I still see little flowers hiding in the grass here and there. The deciduous trees are bare. Grasslands are a mix of green underneath and brown on top. And then there are these dry flower bracts, shining silvery in the sun, standing tall on long stems, having finished blooming long before I came. They catch my eye when we walk. I wonder, "What flower were you when you were blooming? What splash of color will you paint the fields when again you bloom?" It is a mystery to me. I could just look it up, or ask someone, but I prefer the poetry of wonder. I want to be surprised.