A flower, a garden
Tightly wound ‘round
A green spring spindle.
Secrets sleeping still.
A bee on a petal
Freed from bondage
Of winter’s bleak rest.
Grey starlight of dawn.
A breeze on the dewdrops -
Scattered light on
Love incarnate’s form.
Sighs relief, release.
Butterfly flutters by
The dead, dry vine.
A sign Love lost.
Songs still linger on.

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