on the first day of Spring, the sky
was busy covering the blue
banners with kisses, obscuring
the text with billowy lips
of honeydew sugar. the tenor
wind rose and faltered like
a heaving uncle letting go
of eight years of regret, knocking
over the paperweight
with a purposeful swipe.
on the first day of Spring, from way
above, twenty stories
into March, you made
a stack of clean borderless
sheets and pushed them right
out the opened window
to test our new beginning

the first breath of Spring
arrived today on our front
door steps. someone wrote
to say he was coming, but
we hardly expected to see
this young child
pulling on a lever
attached to a kaleidoscopic
pressure machine
cheerfully tipping it into
the greatest number
of colliding mirrors

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