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April

By Caledfwlch All Rights Reserved ©

Poetry

(the kindest month)

          A quick, white crocus, a breath of green

And the opening up of the sky again.

The sun shines through my window, your face before me.

My finger taps a ripple on the lake, plays the waters.


Light warms the water gently, yellow as your hair

Cheeks pink

Palms turn out to me

Your fingers are petals.

Roses are blooming, but I pick a daisy

Gingerly, its delicate petals

Soft in my hands.


Go gently, now

And let yourself bloom up, ready to melt

When the sun climbs higher.

Your smile widens– we've drunk up

Another, drier winter rock

The stone planted hard, greenest leaves unfurling upwards–

          Yes, we've earned another April 3rd.

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