SPRING HAS AN AGENDA
ALL ITS OWN

by K.V. Skene
Oxford, England



and all the short-sleeved wonder of it
is in that handful of blossoms,
the few birds
we know by name
and the gentle greening of the city,
warm rain
washing the kitchen window,
the southwind following
clock-forwarding day —
that persistent peddlar
with a backpack of promises
we always buy into.

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