The Exile of Spring

Clouds pass on velvet sky
with delicate wave, bright body.

Sun’s soul, open armed,
wakes the dark earth to breathe.

Tired feet find their rest
amongst the trees, in the shade,

voluntary exile from encroaching warmth
that comes with season.

Song drifts in the light air,
breathless, and free.

Clouds pass on velvet sky,
with delicate wave, bright body,

planted in revolving winds
as distances come and go.

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