like a lion

[pictures of my love and thoughts about the present]

so march alights

not with a treacherous roar

but a graceful dusting


white as snow


expectancy tingles in our toes

swells in our scarved throats


we recall winters past

where we come from

some hidden growth


a seed fallen


march’s fullness:

a divine gift within


maybe this could be

life’s answer to

all our distant questions


springing up from the ground

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