A sunny morning in early March
entices me to the door
A rush of crisp, clean air blows in
Like a playful slap
Teasing,
Laughing,
“It is close, but not yet here,”
But then is made a lie
By the clarion bell
of the Cardinal’s bright song.
A sunny morning in early March
entices me to the door
A rush of crisp, clean air blows in
Like a playful slap
Teasing,
Laughing,
“It is close, but not yet here,”
But then is made a lie
By the clarion bell
of the Cardinal’s bright song.
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