April 18

Sycamore Spring

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A wild breeze breathes the gaps between the iron grey trunks

Leaves, newborn and virgin green, twist as chill raindrops slide down verdant skins

A darkened sky holds all in, somnolent and steady, ready for her pouring.

Lover Earth, flexing her spring lungs

Sprouting green and red amongst the tinders of winter.

Liquid lifeblood.

Another spring, again not the silent one.

One more to hold dear. A bonus season.


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