Instants
Momentarily he is a lad again
smelling the perfume of a young love.
Now on this morning, the snow carries
a peppermint and lilac scent
and he an old man searching.
Here comes a ragged flight of crows,
he squints in the cold sunlight dazzled.
He recalls the same crows
when he was young, the same bright snow
almost blue under their wings.
Did any of this change -
the girl, the crows, the scent,
the sense of it all?
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