there was no hope or salvation
then forsythia shone, alive
her olive branches extended
saying all is well
her harbinger the first showing
heralding the dawn
with her weeping boughs
introducing the sun again
to capture her slow descent
and sweeping beauty
before the blue-violet, Vinca
steals the light from the sky
a prelude to longer hotter days
reflected, though short-lived
returning the will and spirit
to every eye drawn their way
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