Shadows shift and shudder
In the stirring of the earth –
Awakening the unborn.
The arc of the sky
The cry of the kite
The wake of pond skaters,
As dreams fold in on themselves.
Caught in histories
Of our own creation,
Even when passion waxes and wanes
Spring blossom scattered along the path.
Just that touch alone,
Awakening in the night
To know the warmth of presence.
From across the pond
The scent of Daphne odora -
A curious robin awaiting crumbs.
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