8.5.11
The longing of Spring has sunk away
Now
I dream of Winter’s sweet, quiet solace
The cycle, though known, seems unjust
In its movements
As if it could stagnate
And I expected nothing
But I need her changing expressions
To make sense of my body
To compare my mind with Nature
What a joyous difficulty we have
To keep growing without question
To reflect the changing leaves
Like lakes and ponds and seas
To remain
Rising, reaching
Shaping like a tree
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