her name is Spring
and she runs with laughter
like butterflies bouncing
crazy giggles here and there
her name is Spring
and she kisses each flower,
stops to welcome each leaf,
bends to guide the river’s flow
her name is Spring
and she frolics through meadows,
conducts music howled or hushed,
portions sunlight ripe or raw
her name is Spring
and she arrives like a child
with her hands cupped together
saying Look at what I’ve found
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