Before my front fence,
Gayly clad crocuses chase winter thence.
Behind, rose canes poke few leaf tips yet,
Asters hug ground with green tendrils closely set.
Elsewhere newly bared hydrangeas and mums,
Revive from their winter mulch asylums.
Chickadees and other songbirds visit my feeder now,
After its lonely winter vigil, rewarding my handmaidenly vow.
There’s a new spring to our steps, my...
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