Among a row of otherwise barren bushes bloomed one flower. Just one. A single speck of color in a dreary winter world. Holding onto hope that warmer days will be ahead, that not all is lost. Alone, but not overlooked, down but never out. A flower not so different from the American people. Times look bad, the odds look poor and hope is fleeting. But like a mid-January flower, we will bloom.When the times seem hopeless, we will forever blossom despite poor weather. Like a lone flower in the depths of winter, America will continue to add a touch of color among a palate of grayness.