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3.24.2009

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The threes are budding again
and I am alive,
learning to sleep again
under the bluest of skies
flooded with sunshine.

Three days away from winter
the cold wind shakes my windows,
ices my street,
knifes through me
as I turn the corner toward home.

Time, time and again time:
I never dreamed to see this time,
and yet above me
there is only bluest,
determined buds
and sunshine.