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Mar 2020
The snow goes away.
You call me out to play Lord.
I feel joy at last.

Temperatures rise,
Spirits dance in the daylight.
You catch me spinning.

Tomorrow gives way
to a dream. A warm balming
wafts my soul about.

You melt my winter
like icicles in the sun.
I run toward spring.


Caroline Shank
Caroline Shank
Written by
Caroline Shank  77/F/Wisconsin
(77/F/Wisconsin)   
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