Monday, April 02
A week into spring.
River again dance in high wind.
Stubborn snow melts away inch by inch
Dandelions and lilacs await on wings
Ah! When the grass shall come back with bugs and butterflies in its bellies?
Ah! When the gazelle shall roam and set the spring free into the explosive bloom?
Ah! When the earth shall be rife giving off its geosmin nascence of freshness?
A week into spring.
I sit on the tattered grass.
I pray.
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