For the first day of spring and every day thereafter

2014-04-17 19.28.17

The petals wind stitched,
gather as clouds, split blades
of grass like slivers of paper.
The rest of us, fray like ribbon
like wing among branch and bloom.
We do not hold our rose-colored
tongues in these cool spring days.
We too need bearing and new.

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Categories: Writing

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