I remember coming out of winter
this time of year
a budded tulip poking its head up
struggling with the chilling grip
of the ground and a flirtatious sun
not yet willing to open my arms
to scream like those bundled children
remembering spring’s other years
late snows burying hope
kids’ voices moved back inside
the duel of light and darkness
I never could smile in April
always a grimace until May
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