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March On
White light streams thinly through the dark cedar boughs
Creating shifting patterns of negative space
As the whining wind voices its thoughts on the day.
My own thoughts are clear and in sharp contrast
To the passionless scene before me.
Tulips, hyacinth, lily of the valley
Burst magically into my vision,
Unobstructed by the thin gauze of reality trying to keep me in its harsh glare.
March on, random days of bitter cold, of wheezing wind...
March on to April's blessings.
