waxen wings graze
water
as cracks in ice
skitter along
a pond
ripe with
life
yet calm with
cool.
spring
sun splashed a
sidewalk
as my foot stomped
its shadow
in defiance of inertia
and all things left
to slumber.
within winter’s fading
breath
floods a freshness that
turns the
cynic,
sentimental flowers on the tips
of our tongues,
view clear blue sky
for days to
come?
hands in the garden 
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