The secret of spring
revealed,
not through the feel
of a strong, velvet rain
or the chortle
of the flighty
finch from limb,
nor in following
forbidden pathways
frozen
under spotlight
of adoring
moonlight.
Not in any of these
things,
but in the
subtle irony of
golden spring:
countless
births and deaths,
such beautiful
things.
After languid months of
constraint,
winter’s cruel joke
is finally met
with Earth’s warm
chuckles,
abloom.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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