Saturday, February 26, 2011


I am amazed.
I have lost count
Of the weeks you have thrived
On a mantel with the other objects
For my contemplation.

Through it all:
Rallies of indignation,
Torrents of snow from a birch,
And the dry eyes of my grieving patient

You are there.
And in your tiny blossoms,
Will I find the answers?

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