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They Come and They Return On the second of May In the morning light My tired eyes leap flip-flops In an unexpected snowfall That conquers night and day The flora’s rest gained freedom In the last of April’s rain With lungs exposed but only for a few days Ahead of this impulsive cover up of the chalk-white blanket With its frozen-crystal trim That envelops oh so deep While I cast eyeballs At each flake that fell after the other As spruce boughs hang their limbs so heavy Worn to the grain by winter labors That fastens their snow burden With a wish to effect the final victory Powder fills each crevasse that dares Open its hand to a late storm and be forced Into an unwilling bridal bed Without space to fabricate a turn Until a season’s finish Draws the end’s release Though now not able to unlock a return For smile-time and temperate skies The beloved kin sure to follow Certain as natural cycles given Choice in climactic patterns that returns heavy snows or rain On arid country sides in turn for water once again after the journey out and beyond the far expanse. |
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