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Red, newborn fists

hold together crumpled buds

at the ends of patient tree limbs.


they will relax open

into smooth, emerald filament.

The buttery daffodil

rises from winter rest, head still bent -

soon to be lifted and alive.

Coaxed by gentle light,

the natural world slowly awakens:

singing spring blossoms.

It does not watch the news.

It does not pay attention to data, tallies, and tolls.

It was not told to shelter-in-place.

Sensitive to pesticides

but oblivious to viruses,

creation continues creating.

Dethawed dirt absorbs

salty tears, makes space

for new graves.

All the while

the earth turns

and turns again.

Anxiety weighs heavy

on foreheads and hearts.

The pink flower blooms.

photo credit: Ed Siderewicz

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