Vigil by the Mulberry Tree

A beck­on­ing Spring played

with the after­noon. Dresss­ing it

with a clear sky, a sun,

benev­o­lent with its shad­ows,

and a breeze to rus­tle leaves by.


Object­ing crows, in melan­choly,

called for the return of Win­ter

and pre­ma­ture­ly, mul­ber­ries

were stolen by

Win­ter wiz­ened spar­rows.


The sun seared slow­ly with­draw­ing

the Spring from the after­noon

the winds played con­spic­u­ous­ly

in the dark

and dev­il­ish­ly in the night.

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