Spring

It is a quiet overcast Sunday. Daffodils
roll up their sleeves. Grass makes room
for the dandelions. A silent green and
yellow parade of acknowledgement.
Look closer if you don’t believe in
redemption. White blooms on the pear
trees die for young leaves. The
blossoms are new every year, no matter
how old the branches are. Daffodils
reveal their orange smiles, periscopes of
life.

 

 

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