Spring Snow
The snow puddles about the base
of the arbor
in hollows and eddies;
clinging to the earth like Mother’s milk.
Tire tracks embrace it.
Fog, the breath of Persephone, rose from it.
The snow cleansed the last
bit of bitter Winter broth
from the Mother’s skin.
Daffodils emerge, erect, from warm pockets
of Fall debris, and crumbling chrysalis
to welcome Spring.
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