April 17.
Spring
Was called for almost a month ago.

Flowers
And Showers
Are supposed to be our lot now.

But
I Am
In the storehouses of the snow.
This place
Says, “no”
To the new.

Old
Wineskins
Die hard,
Even in the temples which worship new growth.
When
The Mystery gets used to what was
Spring
Cannot find its Space.

But
I Am
Not
Staying in the storehouses of the snow,
Insists
“Wine flow,
In
Daffodils
And lilacs.

Survive.
Crack
Those old
Casks and finally
Burst Forth!”

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