It was spring for days,
yet now, the winter returns
and the ground and air
are all white, all snow,
nothing but snow,
stumbling in the air,
piling on the ground,
building snow-drifts
white as the low clouds,
and it seemed that all
the promise of rebirth
in the bare earth of had
gone and been reburied
and we had an another
funeral of the autumn past
and one for the stillborn spring.
10.03.2025
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