Season balks at its rebirth
Everywhere the vapors,
Discontent and worry,
And I’m thinking the
Best way to deal with all
Of this is to take it
One day at a time
And in the carousal of
This particular spring,
Her barely-greenings dressed in
White pinwheels or soft
Large-dropped gentle
Rain, or whatever they
Are as long as there’s
No hard frost,
Are blessings,
Are dreams’ remnants,
And they are promises, and
They are whole
In their own times.
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