As if I could suffer, knowing you are here.
Sun is returning, its angle more direct, certain.
Nettles revive their iron kiss, piercing the ground
To roll out a velvet carpet over forest floors.
I walk barefoot, gamboling, a lamb-sphinx
Awash with Spring, its pangs, its birth.
Knowing without winters to toughen my hide
The sun shines for me alone
Even as velvet needles my soles,
And I prick my fingers whilst winging green angels.
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