Jody Azzouni
The reflection yearns
Winged grace
echoed in the water:
a ripple fishing for attention.
You deny its hope: sidelong
it out of existence.
We don't remember the twin
we bury.
When that last snowflake has been stamped out
We come to
our senses; green
explodes. The blinking dew
feeds us awake.
Hope is
eternally spring.
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