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Joy of Spring

I heard a crocus at her altar
opening before the sky,
watched an unfolding of petals
hush into being,
and bright yellow stamens,
and bright yellow corella
daydreaming faces
sing to our sun,
they are
softly
the luring between trees.
A butterfly rests,
the finger of a child holds steady,
that memory of Spring
flutters upon her face.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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