and pushes her cover of snow off of
her body, blooming itself in melted frigid
coldness; her her branches diverge
in the full sprouting of the leaves,
once again creeping themselves up
from the old barren wood -
the stillness of the water is where
she bathes herself, washing the stones
and cement from her (now fertile) green belly
where new lush green babes await their birth
and to be plucked from their earthen bassinets
to make new lives for love - from the hands
of this boy to his girl, who (also) becomes
much more awake in the Spring
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