Lapis sky or gray,
the gold is laced with frost.
Daffodils burst forth unaware
of winter’s planned return.

Brief the flowers’ bloom
and for that more precious yet.
No need to grieve 
                    these days of chill.

Mother Nature
cannot help but blossom;
it is her way.
The gold will return,

a fleeting thing.
It’s the flowering that is remembered.
What has bloomed
                                     will bloom again.



  

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