Spring
I am smarter than dandelions,
But they are more persistent.
The birds are snuggling in nests,
Nests I could never build with my teeth.
The grass is a fresh green,
Green that doesn’t exist in any paint box.
Leaves are emerging by the millions,
And I couldn’t make even one.
What was cold and buried is now alive.
The same is happening to me.
The bulb the squirrel reburied
Becomes a surprise daffodil.
The edges of summer dying are ahead.
But I don’t think about that now.
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