Small signs of life
show up on our walk.
Birds sing a quiet song
they are there, they are ready.
Skunk cabbage peaks out
from under matted leaves.
Embedded with death, a deep brown, crisp from the lack of oxygen
ready to compost for another season.
The air is different
a slight veil of humidity
I welcome it, embracing the way it makes my body feel
Itchy eyes that …
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