March has come in.
She has warmed up our frozen windows.
Two days of cool fresh air blowing on my bed.
The dry roof snow blows past my window.
The tree branches stir gingerly.
Fresh air, strong sunlight, moving puffy clouds,
Tomorrow may bring snow.
But it can't last.
March has come.
My open windows bring me her message.
'Soon' is enough.
The seeds know.
The birds know.
I know.
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